


Just Drive

by Yin



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8453395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yin/pseuds/Yin
Summary: Former military and race car drivers.  Business associates and security.  College students and interns.  A hippie neighbor and a café owner.  Just a group of mismatched idiots trying to make a name for themselves in a city owned by one merciless corporation.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The summer air was starting to cool, thanks mostly to the encroaching darkness of night that had begun swallowing up the currently loud-as-hell get-together.  However, that wasn’t to say the weather was pleasant.  Truthfully, it was just barely becoming tolerable.  After all, Rat’s Nest in the summer was a humid shitfest of a city.  As opposed to how it was in the other seasons: a non-humid shitfest of a city.

Personally, Dexter Grif was glad for the summer nighttime cooldown.  The party itself was already a bit too lively for his normally apathetic leanings, especially since it was outside and there were no places he could sneak off to in order to catch some sleep.  Late nights like this really cramped his preferred snoozing schedule, and he would like to not spend the _entire_ event sweating even more than usual.

It was bad enough that he’d already showered for the damn thing.  He drew the line at taking _two_ fucking showers in one day.  Hell, he tended to draw the line at taking two fucking showers in one week, even if that meant that Kai would give him her patented “stinky face” whenever he walked by her.

Or that his jackass friends made comments about how he smelled and should at least get his “ _fat-ass some deodorant that worked._ ”  …Which the chubby teen refused to do on account of how he was pretty sure hygiene was some kind of government conspiracy.  He was just too lazy to prove it, damn it!

Here he was at a fucking party and using all of his energy to think about cleaning conspiracies while also trying to figure out how he could get to some sustenance.  Grif had already been here for fifteen minutes and hadn’t even had a fucking snack yet.  He was practically starving to death by this point!

Looking around for some food, the orange-wearing teen supposed that the party itself was going pretty well.  It was a celebration of sorts for some of the seniors at their high school, recently renamed Hargrove High after some big wig who had evidently donated a shitload of money to _finally_ get computers not from the 1980s installed on campus.

The seniors would be graduating in a few days, so this was probably one of the last times they’d be hanging out with a bunch of their younger peers.  At least, Grif figured that was the case.  If he ever fucking graduated, he’d probably be out of Rat’s Nest so fast he wouldn’t have even bothered with a party.

Honestly, Grif only knew a handful of the graduating seniors.  However, one of his aforementioned jackass friends, Leonard Church, had a sister who was graduating.  Church had basically said “ _If I have to suck it up and go, then you jackasses better come too!_ ”

…Which had led to Grif being stuck at a party exerting energy trying to be chill even though he had a whole package of Oreos and a warm, comfy bed waiting for him at home.

Grif would have _probably_ come regardless of Church’s less than politely worded request, if only because Kai had somehow heard about the party and she made it her life’s mission to make really dumb decisions based off of gossip and dares.  …How the middle schooler got her information, he’d probably never want to know.  He just prayed she didn’t embarrass the family.

He had already chased her away from the party _twice_ thanks to Cherry, the next door neighbor who kept helping Kai sneak out to the aforementioned party in an attempt to annoy the hell out of him in retaliation for all of the Grif sibling fights she had overheard for the past six months.  Admittedly, he really needed to find some non-sadistic neighbors since it obviously limited his babysitting options.

Since his little sister had hit puberty rather early, most of the party-goers assumed that Kai _was_ a high schooler herself.  Grif’s threats that Kai had better “ _Get home fucking quick!_ ” were met both times with a stuck-out tongue, an upraised middle finger, and a “ _Yeah, yeah…you suck!_ ” all before the tanned girl would flee back in the direction of their nearby neighborhood.

Kai’s tenacity would _almost_ be impressive if it wasn’t constantly giving him a giant headache that was currently coupled with a stronger-than-usual desire to hit the hay.  What a pain in the ass.  Grif yawned as he looked around for some food, figuring it was only a matter of time before his sister came back to once again crash the party.

He spotted Carolina Church, Church’s big sister, seated nearby the food table with her boyfriend, York.  They were talking to some friends about their upcoming plans for after graduation.  …Well, York was talking.  Carolina wasn’t exactly the socializing type.

As he didn’t know either of the two seniors well enough to actively desire to engage them in small talk, Grif was only catching snippets of their conversation.  Evidently both York and Carolina were planning on joining the army for a while.

That actually wasn’t new news to Grif since Church had been actively complaining about his sister’s future plans for some time now.  According to Church, he understood his sister’s desire to get away as quickly as possible considering that their dad was even _more_ of a jerkass than Church was ( _hard to imagine, honestly_ ).  But, since Carolina was one of the few people Church actually _gave_ a shit about, it obviously sucked major ass for the dark-haired teen too.

“Yeah, we’re going to be meeting up with some friends along the way.” Grif overheard York saying, fingers interlaced with Carolina’s, “Like North and Washington.”

Apparently all of their friends who were going into the army with them had weird-as-fuck names too.  Who knew there were so many parents out there who hated their kids?  Grif shook his dark-haired head at the thought, turning his attention to the delicious spread before him instead.

…He would _never_ for the life of him figure out how his sophomore friend, Franklin Delano Donut, managed to always bring out a full-on catering table to impromptu events like this.  Like hell he would ever complain about it.  His mouth watered in appreciation at the sight.

After all, Donut’s food and delectable coffee drinks were pretty much one of the only reasons the normally “can’t be bothered with shit” Grif would even go to one of their school’s parties.  After chasing Kai away for the second time, he had decided he definitely needed to destress.  His sister’s antics made him even hungrier than usual.

So far, the food was doing _wonders_ as he stuffed what he was fairly certain was his tenth _crab cake_ into his mouth.  While it was not as good as a package of Oreos, it would do in a pinch.

“Are you sure you have to go then?” Grif heard a familiar voice asking from a bit farther away, obviously addressing someone else.

Grif looked up at the sound of Donut’s voice, if only because the usually annoyingly perky teenager sounded slightly upset.  The dirty blond was talking to a lanky boy with red hair and an insane amount of freckles.  The pale-skinned teen was currently fidgeting nervously under Donut’s gaze.

It honestly took Grif a moment or two to remember that the redhead’s last name was Simmons as he was a friend of Donut’s who went to a private school in the area.  Simmons often showed up at Hargrove High events like this one at Donut’s insistence, as the pink-wearing teen loved the idea of getting all of his friends together to “mingle” and possibly do some huge dance musical number at some point.

It did _not_ take Grif as long to remember that he had always found the socially awkward redhead _cute_ , especially with the odd stuttering and blush he would get on his face during the few times before that Grif had tried engaging him in conversation.

At the moment, Simmons looked rather sad at the tone in Donut’s voice as he nodded, “Un—unfortunately, yes.  My dad’s already made up his mind.” He said, equally regrettably.

“Aw, that’s too bad!” Donut exclaimed, suddenly pulling his friend into a friendly embrace, “I’ll really miss you, buddy!”

Simmons returned the gesture awkwardly, as if physical contact of any kind was a foreign concept to him, “M—me too, Donut,” he told his friend, “But I’ll message you.”

“You better, or I’ll give you a good shove in the rear to remind you!” Donut stated emphatically, smiling encouragingly despite having a teary look in his brown eyes.

Simmons smiled awkwardly at Donut’s penchant for weird phrasing and gave a small wave before turning to take his leave.  As he did so, his green eyes landed on Grif, his face suddenly becoming fire hydrant red as he awkwardly waved in the chubby teen’s direction before promptly leaving the party.

Grif stared after Simmons’ retreating form for a moment before gulping down another crab cake and approaching Donut.

“Oh, hey, Grif!” The younger teenager was back to his usual perky self in no time flat, “Great party, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s amazing.” He couldn’t help replying with a sarcastic note in his voice.

“Have you tried my cream balls yet?” Donut asked him conversationally, “They’re melt in your mouth goodness!”

Grif raised a black eyebrow, “You mean cream puffs, right?”

“Not the way I make them!” The dirty blond was positively beaming.

Grif sighed, having long since gotten used to the odd manner of Donut’s speech.  Instead, he brought back the matter at hand, “Why did Simmons leave in such a rush?”

Donut’s face took on a crestfallen expression at the mention of his friend, “Oh!  You saw that, huh?” When Grif nodded, he continued, “Simmons is moving because of his father’s business.”

Ah, that explained things.  Grif knew that Simmons’ family was loaded, so it made sense his father would have a business that could get them out of Rat’s Nest.  After all, the private school Simmons went to wasn’t exactly admitting poor kids like the Grif siblings anytime soon.

It sort of sucked that the redhead was moving though, especially because Simmons _was_ cute in a nerdish sort of way.  Grif had just broken up recently rather amicably with his girlfriend, Cass, too.  He sighed, supposing there was no point in dwelling on that particular train of thought now.  It was just another thing to add to the folder of missed opportunities in his life.

While he popped another crab cake in his mouth, Donut excused himself to go offer Carolina and York some of his coffee, leaving Grif alone with a table of food and thoughts of blushing redheads.  He reached out for a cream puff, Grif _refused_ to call them “balls” no matter what Donut said, when someone cleared their throat behind him.

“Can’t stay away from the food table, huh, fat-ass?” Another familiar voice joked, “How about you save some for the rest of us?”

Grif didn’t even bother responding to Lavernius Tucker’s oh-so-amusing quip verbally, instead simply giving him the finger before asking: “I take it that Doc is watching Junior?”

It was a pretty good assumption.  Their friend Doc wasn’t much for parties.  Plus he always enjoyed babysitting Tucker’s one-year-old son, Junior.  Tucker adored Junior and spent as much time as he could with him, but even a doting father probably didn’t want to deal with Church’s inevitable bitching if he hadn’t come to this party.

Tucker nodded, “Yeah, but I told Doc that I’d get Donut to save him a plate of food, so you _better_ not fucking eat it all!”

Grif smirked, “Sorry, Tucker.  You know I don’t make promises about food.”

Tucker rolled his eyes before something else came to mind, “Oh!  I saw Kai hanging around the perimeter of the party.”

Grif nearly choked on his cream puff just then, “Damn it!” He managed to bellow, turning to run and throttle his little sister.

“Relax, man.  I told her to go home.” Tucker looked amused at his friend’s reaction, “She called me a fucking killjoy but I think she listened.”

Grif wasn’t so sure about that.  Knowing Kai and her desire for fun, she had probably just circled around the party once Tucker had left to find another way to sneak in.  He was about to go and check things out for himself when a scowling Church stalked over to them both, looking as uncomfortable and angry at the world as ever in the crowd.

“Good thing you assholes showed up.” Church stated without preamble, clearly miserable and aggravated.

Tucker rolled his eyes again, “Why would we ever want to miss the opportunity to spend time with your sunny-ass personality?” he joked.

Church promptly gave him the finger, “Fuck you.  I’m always pleasant.”

Grif had to fight to hold back a snort, instead popping another cream puff in his mouth.  Talking took too much effort at the moment.

“Sure, sure.  Whatever you say, Church.” Tucker noted with false patience in his voice.

The dark-haired junior sighed before his blue-eyed gaze turned serious, “Are you two idiots still doing the drag racing thing?”

Tucker and Grif both glanced at one another, unsure as to where Church was going with this conversation or how to answer the inquiry.

Yes, the truth was that they were still doing the drag races on occasion.  The money was pretty decent compared to most jobs for teenagers, and both boys had their reasons for needing extra cash.  However, they also knew that Church, Doc, and Donut questioned it due to safety concerns.

“I’m not asking to lecture you assholes again.” Church stated as though reading their thoughts, “I actually have an alternative job for you.”

“An alternative job?” Tucker echoed, looking rather intrigued by the notion.

The cobalt-wearing teen nodded, looking smug, “Yeah, my old man said I could hire new drivers since Carolina is leaving.”

Oh, right.  Grif had almost forgotten that Church and Carolina’s father ran a garage and driver service here in Rat’s Nest.  He called it Mother of Invention for some dumb reason, although he left a lot of the day-to-day mechanical repairs to a crazy old veteran named Sarge.

Church had complained so much about being forced to work there while in school that Grif had sort of just started tuning him out for his own sanity.  Well, that and because it took too much effort to pretend to care.

“It would be a lot safer than what you’re doing now.  Not to mention legal.” Church reasoned, “You would also be getting free job training for if you jackasses actually graduate.  Or more likely don’t.”

“Aw, you do care about us!” Tucker couldn’t help but joke just then.

Church groaned, “Shut up right now, or I’m taking the offer back.” He threatened.

Realizing that Church was being actually serious, Tucker suddenly looked thoughtful at their friend’s proposal, “Hmm…”

Grif frowned in thought then.  He thought of Kai and how he needed money to support their family.  He thought of all the implicit safety concerns and legal issues of what he was doing currently to get said money, of how getting injured or possibly arrested would impact his fiery little sister in the long run.

…He thought of missed opportunities, and of blushing, freckled redheads.

“How much money are we talking about here?” Grif finally asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Prologue is the start of my NaNoWriMo 2016 writing project. It’s a little different from my usual AU fics, but hopefully you all will enjoy it! My goal is to write as much of this story as I can before the November 30th deadline for the event. :)
> 
> The upcoming first chapter of _Just Drive_ will feature a timeskip to show what the characters are up to years later, and will also feature Washington as the second POV for the story. I hope that you will be looking forward to it!
> 
> Pairings for this fic can be found in the Tags! I should also note that there is past Yorkalina and Doyle x Kimball, but like in canon both York and Doyle are dead in the main story’s timeline.
> 
> I will be trying my best to also update my other stories this month too (although _Shiny Things_ is on a break), so please wish me luck! :D


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“So, what do you think?” Vanessa Kimball asked two of her co-workers with a flourish, the dust particles in the air moving to life with the motion of her arms.

David Washington looked around the large, vacant space that his friend had brought them to.  It was hard to figure out what the large, empty warehouse-like building had been used for before given how void of personality it was now.  The few crates that were still there were covered by dirty and dusty canvases.

“It’s…nice.” The blond finally said at length, unsure of what else to exactly say.

Their other companion, a brown-haired man who they simply known as Felix, snorted at Washington’s carefully chosen words. “You drove us all the way out to Blood Gulch for _what_ , exactly?” he asked the dark-skinned woman, his tone bordering on an incredulous pitch, “To show us an empty warehouse?”

“Felix!” Wash hissed out, but neither of his co-workers were paying him any heed.

Kimball’s arms had fallen to her sides, though the look in her brown eyes was still oddly hopeful, “This _warehouse_ would have more than enough space for a garage.  Don’t you think?”

Wash blinked at her comment, understanding as to why Kimball had brought them here in the first place dawning on his features.  It wasn’t surprising that _that_ was her motive.  After all, Kimball had always seen her work as part of Hargrove’s security task force as temporary at best.  No, what _truly_ beat inside her chest was the heart of a mechanic.

It had taken Donald Doyle’s unfortunate and tragic passing three years prior for Kimball to truly understand and accept that identity for herself.  Ever since, she had been steadfast in her desire to see that goal come to fruition.

Hargrove had promised Kimball that he would help her set up a shop of her own at some point in the future, but that promise had taken a backburner to his takeovers of pretty much all of the businesses of Rat’s Nest.

Corporate takeovers that Hargrove and his company Charon had managed with profits made during the war.  Washington supposed it was only right that _someone_ had profited from that horrible, fucked up situation.  _He_ certainly hadn’t, and neither had Kimball.

He had lost too many friends to count during the heavy fighting.  The casualties of war: York, North, South, Connie, Maine…

Hell, he even counted Carolina among the list of lost Freelancers despite the red-haired woman currently living in Rat’s Nest.  She was even someone he saw on a rather daily basis, but Carolina was practically a stranger to him now with how distantly she acted towards him.  Washington had certainly lost her friendship thanks to the war.

Still, none of that changed the fact that he was well aware of how much Malcolm Hargrove was leading Kimball on.  It seemed as if Kimball was starting to realize it too now, especially if she was looking at real estate for her dream business on her own.

“You have got to be shitting me.” Evidently, Felix had his own opinions regarding Kimball’s reasoning as well, “That’s why you brought us out here?”

“Felix—” Kimball began, but the man in a black business suit cut her off.

“Come on, Vanessa!  You have to get over this.” Felix informed her matter-of-factly, “No matter how you spun it to him, here’s no way that Hargrove would flip the bill for this.  Why the hell would he?  And why the hell would you get your hopes up for something that’s not even guaranteed to make you a profit?”

Kimball frowned, “It’s not just about turning a profit,” she stated succinctly, “And if I were to get Project Freelancer on board…”

Felix snorted again as she trailed off, crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah, good luck with that.” He muttered, “That Carolina chick’s been refusing more _sensible_ business merger ideas from Hargrove for years.  She’s even more stubborn than you.”

Kimball’s frown deepened at his words, but her shoulders and overall posture remained steady, “I didn’t say it would be easy.”

“Try impossible.” Felix corrected her, “Come on, Vanessa.  I know you’re smarter than this.”

“Maybe not.” The dark-skinned woman shrugged defiantly, “There’s no harm in trying, at any rate.”

“Well, it’s no skin off my back if you fail, so I suppose you’re right.” The other bodyguard stated, a smug smirk crossing over his features as he fiddled with his orange tie.

She smiled bitterly, “Sorry for wasting your time then, Felix.” She noted before heading towards the exit, “I’ll inform Locus that we’re heading back.”

“Great.  I get first shift with him again.” Felix rolled his eyes, “Fun times.”

While his tone was sarcastic, Washington couldn’t help but notice an odd little glimmer of anticipation in Felix’s eyes all the same.  He decided not to comment on that, instead waiting until Kimball was out of earshot before turning his full attention to the bodyguard, “What the fuck was that?” he asked him.

Felix looked positively bored as he scratched the inside of one of his ears with his pinky finger, “Uh, you’re going to have to be more specific, _Washie_.” He mocked.

Wash didn’t even bristle at the annoying nickname this time, more angry over what he had just witnessed, “You trying to talk Kimball out of going for this!” he elaborated, “I thought you were her friend!”

Felix looked at him coldly then, “Isn’t it a friend’s job to talk someone out of doing something completely idiotic?” he countered.

“But if she plays her cards right—!”

“Which she can’t when Hargrove’s stacked the deck.” Felix cut him off, “Face it, Wash, I’m just trying to keep her on the winning team.”  Felix strode past him before stopping and giving the blond a sidelong glance, “You might want to remember that too.” He advised.

Washington bristled at the condescending note in Felix’s voice, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Felix smirked, “You, Vanessa, and Tex spend way more time than necessary being buddy-buddy with those Project Freelancer guys, especially you with that one asshole driver.  What’s his name?  Sucker?”

The freckled blond clenched his fists at his sides and tried, for the sake of their continued working relationship, to remain civil towards Felix, “ _Tucker_.”

“Tucker.  Right.” Felix nodded, glancing at Wash again speculatively, “You fucked him yet?”

“Wha—!“ Wash’s face turned bright red and he spluttered at the question, “No!”

“Oh, my mistake then.” Felix mock apologized, obviously amused by the response he had gotten from Washington, “I just figured you must have given how often you seem to need rides to places, even on your off days.  Never learned to drive, Wash?”

The gray-eyed man’s blush intensified, “L—leave Tucker and the others out of this.” He told the brown-haired man, suddenly remembering why mercenaries for hire like Felix always pissed him off.

Felix shrugged indifferently, “Whatever you say, _Washie_.” He stated, nodding to the door that Kimball had exited through earlier, “Now let’s get the fuck out of here before Sam bitches that I’m late again.”

Washington fumed, but nodded his head in agreement all the same as he moved towards the exit until something that Felix said finally registered enough to give him pause.  “Wait a minute…” he began, realization sinking in, “Locus’ real name is _Sam_?”

Felix paused, making a face as though he had forgotten something important, like an explicit agreement between himself and Locus to not use their real names even amongst co-workers.  Not that Washington was one to judge: he definitely understood the appeal of code names.

Felix covered his grimace up quickly by smirking at Wash in a taunting fashion, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Then he was heading in the same direction that Kimball had left in, apparently eager to leave the empty warehouse behind, a smug saunter evident in his steps just to further mock Washington.  The former Freelancer sighed as he followed his co-worker out, finding himself tempted yet again to call Tucker.

*****

“I’m just saying, the asshole keeps constantly requesting me specifically and he doesn’t even fucking tip!” Dexter Grif bitched over his second mug of coffee for the day, “How fair is that?”

Lavernius Tucker gave his friend since childhood a pointed look, “Dude, are you seriously complaining about having a steady gig?” He asked incredulously from where he was sitting across from the orange-wearing Grif at the table in the Project Freelancer breakroom, “Some of us would _kill_ for that right now.”

Grif snorted at Tucker’s comment, “Maybe you should have avoided telling the old guy an innuendo joke then.”

“He said it was _so_ hot out!  What was I supposed to do with that perfect of a setup?” Tucker groaned, resting his forehead on the table.

The heavyset man rolled his brown eyes at his teal-wearing co-worker, though he knew how difficult it could be to hold your tongue in front of Malcolm Hargrove.  Ever since Tucker’s unfortunate remark, Grif had been forced to do so for the sake of the company.  He had to admit, it was downright exhausting.  For an admittedly lazy ass like Grif who enjoyed being apathetic, it was kind of dangerous exerting so much self-control.

To be perfectly honest, Grif would much rather be here in the confines of the garage.  At least here he could say whatever the fuck he wanted without worry or restraint.  None of his asshole friends and co-workers really gave a shit if he was also an asshole: it helped him fit in.

However, since Hargrove pretty much had Project Freelancer in a stranglehold right now, the chubby man had to be on his best behavior around the corporate windbag.  Grif was honestly somewhat envious of the fact that Tucker didn’t have to deal with Hargrove directly anymore.  The elderly businessman was intimidating as _fuck_.

Still, he also knew that, like himself with Kai, Tucker was trying to support his son with this job.  Unlike the now-in-college Kaikaina Grif, Junior wasn’t yet at an age where he could help with anything financial yet.

Truthfully, the older Grif sibling had been surprised when Kai had started doing odd jobs around town a couple years ago.  Kai even offered him the money that she earned from them to “ _pay you back or some shit_ ” as she called it.  Well, whatever it was she had left over after buying her rave supplies that is.

While it wasn’t a ton of money since Grif had wanted Kai to focus on getting a degree, something Grif himself had never gotten around to, it had certainly helped their family out in several different emergency situations.

Since Junior’s mother had pretty much been a no-show ever since the young boy’s birth, Tucker relied solely on the money he got from being a driver for Project Freelancer to support them both.  Naturally, having steady jobs went a long way towards that, especially when congruent with their hourly salaries, particularly if someone was a good tipper.  …However, Grif could say with the utmost confidence that Hargrove was not one.

Tucker sighed, “Well, it’s his fucking loss if he can’t even take a joke.” He muttered, before glancing over at his lazy friend, “I can’t fucking believe you haven’t snapped at the old asshole yourself yet.”

“Believe me, Tucker.  It’s a challenge not to.” Grif let out another long-suffering sigh, “The things I suffer through.”

Indeed it was a challenge, though the chubbier man had plenty of opportunities to be as carefree and sarcastic as he wanted at the garage or at his home.  With Kai always getting into dumb-as-all-fuck trouble, and the assortment of people working here or who visited, he still got in his quota of wry commentary.

“I’ll bet.” Tucker noted, taking a swig out of the water bottle nearby, “He’s practically asking for it all the time.  Bow-chicka-bow-wow!”  No sooner had the common catchphrase left his mouth then the dark-skinned man seemed to realize what he had actually said, making a sick face, “Ew, never mind.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Grif muttered, joining the dark-skinned man in making a disgusted face.  See?  He delivered enough sarcasm at Project Freelancer to last a lifetime.

Calling the place Project Freelancer instead of the Mother of Invention still felt weird despite the new name having been in use for over a year now.  The garage-and-driving service’s name had changed ever since Carolina had taken over the business following the death of her and Church’s father.

The redhead had only said the new name was her way of honoring her comrades from the military, though further attempts to pry into the backstory behind change was always met with a stony, green-eyed glare.

Even weirder was Sarge’s crazy attempt to change the name yet again, this time to the Reds and Blues Garage for…whatever reason Sarge ever had for doing anything.  Thank God Carolina always vetoed that fucking lunatic idea.

Speaking of Carolina, Grif glanced wearily over through the open doorway of the breakroom to their boss’ office.  Carolina had entered her office at the start of the day and they hadn’t seen her step outside since.  Truthfully, only Church, or possibly Tex if she was around, had the balls to enter said office when the door was shut.  Carolina wasn’t exactly known for her open door policy—a trait she must have inherited from the former boss, since he was definitely not the “mingle with the underlings” type either.

Whatever the hell the redhead did in her office for hours on end was seriously a pretty big mystery around here, one that was probably not going to get solved any time soon.  So, with Carolina sealed away in there doing who knows what currently, that just left himself, Tucker, Sheila, and Lopez at the Project Freelancer garage.

Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate.  Church was likely around too, but since Tex had stopped by earlier in the day, who the hell wanted to know what they were up to now?  With those two it was either fighting or making out, neither of which Grif was too eager to step in on.

Sarge had taken his lunch break to visit with his younger girlfriend, a doctor working at a nearby medical clinic called Valhalla.  Doctor Emily Grey and Sarge were so affectionately “lovey dovey” with one another that they had arranged for their lunches to always be at the same time, just so that they could always see each other at least once in the day.

…It was cutesy enough to make one want to gag, if the two maniacs weren’t so terrifying together.  Given Sarge’s penchant for insulting Grif and threatening him for being a “ _lazy excuse of a driver_ ,” the tan-skinned man welcomed the reprieve from the crazy old guy even though he was mentally preparing for the day when the two mad scientists inevitably decided to take over the world.

Looking around the garage, Grif noted some more absences, as well as less things catching on fire in the background.  The lack of explosions made sense given that Caboose had needed the intern Andersmith’s help with a recent delivery of his.  Who knew how long they would be out given Caboose’s penchant for getting distracted?

Michael J. Caboose was the roommate of one very reluctant Leonard Church, who had gotten the more simple-minded young man a job as an “errand boy” or sorts at the garage largely to help keep his roomie from lighting their curtains on fire for the fifth time in one month. 

…At least the blond had John Elizabeth Andersmith with him this time for the delivery, though the older intern seemed not to notice many of Caboose’s odd quirks.  In fact, Andersmith often praised the younger man for them, which made Grif question his judgement.  At least they’d probably not get lost thanks to Caboose’s smart phone, which he had named Freckles for some reason, being equipped with GPS. 

Project Freelancer’s other intern, a young man around Kai’s age named Matthews, had stepped out for his own lunch break too.  Grif had forgotten Matthews’ first name and now figured it would be too much of a pain to ask.  Still, knowing the kid’s penchant for _always_ supplying Project Freelancer’s staff with coffee since he was a grade-A kiss-ass after all, the auburn-haired man was no doubt at the Big Gulp right now.

If Grif cared more, he would worry that Matthews had a caffeine problem given how often he would go there in his spare time.  But, the bespectacled intern provided them with fresh coffee and baked goods, so he didn’t see much reason to complain or exert energy by having to be concerned.

All in all, it seemed to be shaping up to be a pretty quiet afternoon.  The kind of lazy day where he could probably sneak off later to do a little napping, which was always awesome in his book.  Thinking about that very thing, Grif couldn’t help but yawn slightly.  A nap _would_ be good right about now…

Of course, at the exact moment when he was about to inform Tucker of his amazing plans for the rest of the day, there was a knock on the doorway.  Glancing in that direction, Grif saw a pretty petite woman with brown hair in a bun standing there.

Sheila, the office assistant here at Project Freelancer, smiled politely at both Tucker and Grif.  In her hand was clasped two pieces of paper with information scrawled on them in neat, cursive writing.

Behind the brunette was the tanned form of Lopez, one of the mechanics at the garage.  He looked rather bored, having no doubt been conversing with the woman before she had gotten up from her work area to talk to them.  She was one of the only people who understood him since he only spoke Spanish.  It was fairly obvious that Lopez was smitten with her too.

“Hey, Sheila.  Hey, Lopez.” Tucker greeted the two, nodding his head in their direction, “How’s it hanging?”

“No puedo quejarme demasiado cuando el viejo loco de rojo está lejos.”  _{“I can’t complain too much when the crazy old man in red is away.”}_

Sheila gave Lopez a knowing smile in response to whatever he had just said before turning back around to the two drivers sitting at the breakroom table, “It’s going well.  Thank you.”

“I take it you have work for one of us?” Grif let out another long-suffering sigh at the notion.  There went his perfect napping plans out the window.

“Yes.  For both of you, actually.” She glanced down at the papers that she was holding even though she had probably memorized every detail of their new assignments by heart, “Grif, Chairman Hargrove has requested a pick-up for the airport in two hours’ time.”

_Damn it._   Of course the old bastard had.  The dark-haired man chose to ignore the amused smirk that Tucker shot his way, admirably resisting the “ _fuck off_ ” that was on the tip of his tongue for the time being. 

“Tucker,” Sheila smiled in bemusement, a sudden twinkling in her brown eyes, “David Washington has requested that you pick him up from the _usual_ spot.”

Tucker’s face turned red, and even Lopez smirked at his reaction.

Grif raised an eyebrow, “Oh, what does this make it, Tucker?” He asked his friend, “The _seventh_ time Washington has hired you outside of his work?”

On occasion, employees of Malcolm Hargrove would hire out Grif or Tucker for Charon job-related reasons.  But, the interesting thing with Washington, was that he had stopped doing that weeks ago.  The blond was now getting Tucker to drive him places completely out of his own pocket.

If the chubby man didn’t know any better, either Washington couldn’t drive worth shit himself or he was completely infatuated with Grif’s teal-wearing co-worker.

“Shut up.” Tucker gave him the finger then, “I’d rather ride with hotness than old and cranky any day of the week.”

“Parece que a veces también está de mal humor cuando visita aquí.”  _{“He seems to sometimes be cranky too when he visits here.”}_

“You should get him to stop by sometime again, Tucker.” Sheila noted, “He and Carolina _are_ friends, after all.”

“I don’t know.” Tucker looked unsure at the idea, “They seemed pretty icy to one another the last time.”

That was a bit of an understatement, as Carolina had walked right past Washington on his last visit to Project Freelancer as if she didn’t even recognize him.

Tucker shot up from the table a second later though, with _way_ more pep in his step than when he had entered the breakroom earlier to sit with Grif, “At any rate, I should get going!”

“Yeah, you don’t want to keep _Wash_ waiting.” Grif remarked jokingly.

“Hey, at least he fucking tips, fat-ass!” Tucker shot back, grinning from ear to ear, “Plus, he’s easy on the eyes!”

As Tucker moved past Sheila and Lopez, the Spanish speaking mechanic sighed and shook his head, “Tanto por ser profesional.”  _{“So much for being professional.”_ _}_

*****

By the time Grif had lazily finished his coffee and had gotten to where his car was parked, he noticed that Tucker’s was long gone.  He smirked, suspecting that Tucker was already halfway to meeting Washington wherever it was that they had deemed their “usual” spot.

His old friend was definitely not trying to conceal the obvious crush he had on Hargrove’s bodyguard in the slightest.  If Grif wasn’t so apathetic, he would almost be jealous.  He couldn’t even remember the last time that he had a crush on someone.

…High school, probably.  Which was definitely a while ago.  An odd flash of freckled skin and red hair came to him then, but he shook his head to dispel the odd passing thought as he approached his car.

Grif stopped when he noticed the backseat windows were a lot _steamier_ than he remembered them being earlier.  He groaned at the realization as to why that was, especially since he had figured out the mystery as to _where_ exactly Church and Tex had snuck off to.  As well as what it was exactly they were doing while having disappeared.

“Guys, what the fuck?!?” Grif shouted, looking away from the tinted windows, “Get your own car to do that shit in!”

His comments were met with fucking _laughter_ as both Tex and Church stumbled out of the car, their clothes and hair looking obviously more rumpled than before they had gotten in.

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Tex countered, grinning deviously in a way that had Grif wanting to run away or get something to shield his balls with.

“Yeah, and way to ruin the mood, dipshit.” Church chimed in.

Grif rolled his eyes, “Please, you both should be paying me for the mental images I’m going to be having.”

“Jealously is not a good color on you, Grif.” His friend mocked, his cobalt shirt wrinkled.

Tex nodded her blonde head in agreement, smirking, “What is your shirt color of choice anyways?  Gold?”

“Fuck you, you know it’s orange!” He motioned to his _clearly_ orange undershirt at that remark.

Tex and Church both laughed before heading inside the garage once again, fingers interlaced together.

Grif sighed lazily, staring at his car.  Now he would have to actually clean the damn thing before taking Hargrove to the airport.  _Fucking perfect._

*****

The drive to Armonia Airport wasn’t nearly as eventful as Grif had feared it might be, the traffic in Rat’s Nest being surprisingly light given the time of day.

Thankfully, Hargrove had opted to leave his security retinue behind this time.  Felix had mock-waved goodbye in Grif’s rearview mirror as they had pulled away from Hargrove’s estate, Locus standing beside him as imposing and stoic as ever.

The car ride was pretty quiet considering that Malcolm Hargrove wasn’t one for socializing with those that he considered beneath him, which served Grif just fine.  After all, if they didn’t engage in small talk in the first place it was a lot harder for him to be a sarcastic asshat.  Which, admittedly, Grif was prone to be with the stuffy types.

It took them about half an hour to reach the crowded airport, and another ten minutes for Grif to pull into the Arrivals lane.  Hargrove was looking out the window, clearly searching for someone.  He finally tapped at the window to indicate that he had found whoever it was they were picking up.

“Ah, there he is.” Hargrove elaborated verbally, his voice a command as he added, “Stop right here.”

Grif did as he was told, not even bothering to look at whichever business associate they were picking up this time.  He simply got out of the car to put their bags in the trunk, as this type of thing had been a pretty common routine in his line of work.

However, the chubby man was surprised that the new arrival had only one small suitcase with them.  In his experience, the big wigs that Hargrove usually picked up at the airport traveled with more stuff. As he picked up the suitcase carelessly with one hand, he noted that it was quite light too.

“This is it?  You don’t have more shit somewhere?” Grif couldn’t help but ask, not really caring either way what the answer was.

“Um…!”

There was something vaguely familiar about the hesitant voice that had just tried to speak, and Grif finally looked up at the new arrival’s face for what he learned was not actually the first time.

His dark-eyed gaze met with vibrant green eyes, red hair, and pale skin dotted with too many freckles to count.  …Though Grif recalled that he had _tried_ on occasion to count them when he had stolen glances at the person before, years ago.

The not-really-a-stranger’s face was turning an impossible fire hydrant red under Grif’s scrutiny just then, and suddenly the name of Donut’s friend from high school came so quickly into the orange-wearing man’s mouth that he couldn’t help but blurt it out.

_“Simmons?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the first actual chapter of the story! :) I had fun writing this part out, and I can only hope that will continue to be the case as the story progresses!
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read this! :D


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“No fucking way!” Lavernius Tucker said incredulously in response to the news he had just received, “ _Simmons_ is going to be Hargrove’s secretary?”

David Washington raised a blond eyebrow at the remark, “I really don’t get what the big deal is.” He told the other man, “I wasn’t even aware that you knew Simmons until now.”

The two were seated on the hood of Tucker’s car, just outside of the apartment building that Washington had called home ever since moving to Rat’s Nest.  A bag of fast food sat between them, smells of greasy fries wafting up into the air.

Washington would probably be reluctant to admit it out loud, but he absolutely loved moments like this.  He didn’t even care that he had eaten more unhealthy fast food in the last few months than he had in his entire life beforehand.  Ever since he had taken on this job with Charon Industries, he felt the need to let loose every once in a while.

…Besides, whenever he suggested anything remotely healthy for dinner, Tucker would make a disgusted face that, while admittedly sort of cute, had Wash afraid that the other man would rethink their whole situation if he pressed too much.  The blond already knew that this wasn’t exactly a “normal” professional driver-and-passenger driving dynamic.

But, for whatever reason, this had been how the two of them spent their evenings ever since Washington had started hiring Tucker to drive him back to his apartment after work: the two would get something to eat and then talk off the clock for what felt like hours.

Wash was aware that he was socially awkward and rather withdrawn.  The former Freelancer was also aware that this was probably a strange way to make friends outside of his usual work routine, especially when he was quickly developing something of a crush on said friend.

Tucker, unaware of the thousands of thoughts running around the older man’s mind, shrugged absentmindedly at Wash’s comment on Hargrove’s most recent hire, “I mean, I don’t know him _well_ , but we were sort-of friends in high school.” The dark-skinned man said in way of explanation, “Back then, he was best friends with Donut.  Simmons didn’t even go to our school.”

“Donut.” Washington frowned in thought at the name before something clicked in his brain, “He’s the one who runs that coffee shop, right?”

The unfortunately named coffee shop that Wash couldn’t help but turn slightly red-faced at when he so much as thought about it.  He figured that Tucker must have used up all of his jokes about The Big Gulp _years_ ago to be able to speak about it with a straight face now.

Tucker glanced over at the blond, mildly impressed, “Look at you, remembering shit.”

“Well, I _have_ met Donut a few times.” Washington couldn’t help but get a bit flustered at the comment, “You don’t forget a personality like that.  All of you guys are a memorable bunch.”

Tucker laughed, the sound causing a pleasant feeling to crawl over Washington, “Damn straight we are!” But then his face turned slightly serious again, “Since he’s a friend of Donut’s, I’m just surprised Simmons would work for a jackass like Hargrove.” His eyes went over to Wash sheepishly at that, “No offense.”

“A little taken.” Washington stated, though there was no anger in his voice.

Truthfully, he questioned why he was still working for Hargrove himself.  It all boiled down to there being far too little jobs for someone with his particular skillset.  Wash supposed Carolina had been rather fortunate in that regard.

…Which was an odd thing to say and kind of made him feel a bit like a jackass, especially given what had happened in order for her to have her current job.

“Perhaps Simmons doesn’t have much of a choice.” Washington mused from his own personal experience, shrugging, “I hear the Hargrove and Simmons’ families are close business associates.”

Tucker nodded, whistling, “That sucks, man.” He stated, a knowing look in his brown eyes, “For both of you.”

“Tucker…” Wash began, not sure what to say as he let the name linger.

Tucker, not a fan of things getting _too_ sentimental regardless, cut him off, “I wonder how Grif’s going to take it when he realizes who they’re picking up tonight.” He mused, kicking his legs into the air and looking up at the darkening sky, “He had a huge crush on the nerd back in the day.”

“Really?” Washington couldn’t help but be a bit curious at that bit of information considering that the few times he had met Dexter Grif he had assumed the lazy driver was the type to not be bothered with most things in general.

The teal-wearing man nodded, “I could totally tell, man.” Tucker smirked, “Whatever.  It will serve him right for fucking teasing me all the time.”

“Teasing you?” Washington’s curiosity was piqued even more now, “What does he tease you about?”

If it was about a potential crush, then…

The former Freelancer noticed Tucker glance towards his direction.  In the lamplight flickering down upon them, Washington would almost swear the dark-skinned man was _blushing_.

The driver quickly looked away, “N—nothing!  It’s nothing.  Just fucking forget it, Wash.”

The tone of Tucker’s voice and how he was acting definitely didn’t have Washington feeling like it _was_ nothing, but he decided that it was best to not push the subject any farther for the moment.

Besides, it looked as if Tucker had decided not to give him the chance as he changed topics entirely himself, “Sheila thinks it might be nice for you to try to talk to Carolina some more.” He noted, “You know, for old time’s sake.”

Of course, Tucker had to pick a conversation topic that was an uncomfortable one for Washington.  Worst topic ever.  Of all time.

Washington sighed, “That’s probably not a good idea, Tucker.” He informed him, hoping that would put an end to this particular conversation thread.

If the way that the redhead had simply looked through him as if he didn’t exist the last time that they had met at Project Freelancer was any indication, then Carolina wanted nothing to do with him.

It hurt.  A lot.  But Washington supposed he could understand why she was acting that way.  However, Tucker apparently did not.

“I just don’t get it.” He stated glumly, staring at Wash with a scrutinizing gaze, “I mean, you _are_ friends, right?  That’s what Tex and Church say, at least.”

Washington nodded in response to the question.  He and Carolina _used_ to be friends.  Back when everyone was together and all of them were still _alive_.  Now…

“It’s complicated, Tucker.” The blond finally stated, realizing he had gotten lost in his remembrances.

Tucker made a face, “Shit with you is always complicated.” He informed him distastefully.

Washington simply nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment.

“Saying that something is complicated is code for wanting to tell someone to shut the fuck up.” Tucker stated finally, giving Wash a pointed look to match his declaration.

“Tucker—”

“Is it because you’re working for Hargrove and that jackass has our business in a stranglehold?”

Washington blinked gray eyes.  Leave it to Tucker to not beat around the bush, and for being surprisingly observant too.  Finally, he nodded in response: “Most likely, yes.”

Carolina was not the type of person to willingly forgive such transgressions easily.  Washington imagined his working directly for Hargrove had come as a huge shock to her when she had first found out about it.

“Doesn’t seem to stop Tex too much though.” Tucker noted, mentioning Wash’s fellow co-worker and former Freelancer comrade by name.

Washington couldn’t help but smile wryly at the driver’s comment, “ _Nothing_ stops Tex.”

“That’s true.” Tucker laughed again, a clear sound that Washington would pay money to hear more often.  Still, in the next second the teal-wearing man was back to frowning, “It just sucks that you two have gotten to this point.”

Well, Washington couldn’t argue with his sentiment.  It did royally suck that he couldn’t even reminisce with his old boss.

He sighed, remembering why he had felt the sudden urge to see Tucker in the first place, “Kimball is looking into starting her own business down in Blood Gulch.”

Tucker raised an eyebrow at that bit of news, “Does she have the money?”

A shake of his head accompanied Washington’s reply, “No.  At the moment it’s still all up in the air.”

“Oh.  That sucks.” Tucker tapped his fingers on his knee absentmindedly, “Still, Blood Gulch would be a fucking fantastic spot if she _could_ get the money.  Hargrove hasn’t pounced all over it yet.”

Washington absentmindedly nodded his head in agreement, “I think Kimball might approach Carolina with a deal.”

Tucker snorted, “I’d love to see her try.” He told Wash, “Church has been trying to get her to move locations for a while now.”

_That_ was new information to Wash, who frowned in thought: “Any idea why she hasn’t?”

The dark-skinned man shrugged, “Legal shit from Hargrove and sheer stubbornness on her part would be my guess.”

“I see.” The last one in particular definitely sounded like Carolina.

“But I’ll see if I can’t put a good word in for her.” Tucker informed him, “Your friend Kimball’s a pretty fine lady.”

Washington smiled, feeling immensely grateful, “Thank you, Tucker.”

“Eh, don’t even fucking mention it.” Tucker shrugged and looked away, “I mean, that _is_ what friends are for.  Am I right?”

Washington could have sworn there was almost a quiver of disappointment in Tucker’s voice, although perhaps he was simply imagining it due to the slight stab of the emotion he felt just then at the “ _friends_ ” comment.

“Friends.” Wash swallowed dryly, nodding, “Right.”

The blond had to remind himself that this was all it was currently.  Just two friends enjoying one another’s company, with one of them desperate on the inside for the night to not end.

The former Freelancer sighed.  If Tucker noticed his less than enthusiastic response, he chose not to comment on it.

“Dude, one of these days we’ll need to hang out somewhere else.” Tucker noted, face turning slightly red at his own remark, “Your neighbors are probably gonna start talking just as much as the assholes at the garage do.”

“Oh?” Washington raised a blond eyebrow inquisitively, “What are they saying exactly?”

If it was anything like the joking comments he got from Tex or Felix when he mentioned his personal drive home?   …Well, with that particular train of thought Washington could feel his own face turn red.

“N—nothing!”

Tucker was acting oddly sheepish for “ _nothing_ ,” but Washington was afraid to say more on the subject out of fear that doing so would drive the other man away.  Truthfully, the former Freelancer was really at a loss as to what to say.

Tucker sighed, “Maybe next time you should just come to the garage, like Tex does.” He noted, shrugging, “If you’re in the area, that is.”

Washington couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow again, “Are you talking me out of hiring you?”

Tucker shrugged once more, again looking oddly sheepish, “Hey, man, it’s your money.  Waste it how you fucking want.”

The blond thought about it for a moment, “All right.” He finally said at length, “The next time that Tex goes, I’ll come along too.”

Tucker _grinned_ at the confirmation and Washington had to ignore the odd feeling of happiness that washed over him at the sight, “All right!” he exclaimed, looking hopeful, “Maybe Carolina will even talk to you if you hang out there more.”

Leave it to the teal-wearing driver to be unfailingly optimistic.  Washington rolled his eyes, “One thing at a time, Tucker.”

But, Tucker had already moved on to discuss Junior’s progress in school.  As Washington listened to the younger man gush proudly over his son, a mix of contentment as well as surprise overcame the security guard as he recalled what Tucker had asked him.

Had Tucker, however unintentionally, asked Wash out on a _date_ of sorts?  Washington couldn’t help but smile slightly at the thought, even as he worried that he was probably reading way more into the situation than he should be.

*****

Richard “Dick” Simmons stood in the car Arrivals lane of Armonia Airport while Dexter Grif held his luggage, fidgeting awkwardly as his freckled face took on the sudden likeness of a tomato.

“H—hey, Grif.” Simmons greeted quietly, swallowing nervously at the same time, “Long time no see, huh?”

“I’ll say.” Grif snorted at the understatement, knowing that it had been years since either of them had seen or even been in contact with the other.

The chubby man had heard on occasion from Donut about Simmons’ progress since the redhead had moved away from Rat’s Nest, but it was never anything too big or too major.  There had certainly not been any mention of _this_.

Grif made a mental note to throttle the pink-wearing man the next time he saw him for not telling him that Simmons was coming back to the city.  Donut was normally such a fucking gossip queen, Grif couldn’t believe he had managed to avoid saying anything all those times the lazy driver had visited The Big Gulp.

“H—how have you been?” Simmons said, apparently working up the courage to try to sustain a conversation with Grif this time, something the pale-skinned man had never had the guts to do in high school.

Grif shrugged, “Can’t complain too much.” He remarked without seeing the need for too much elaboration, “You?”

“I—!“

Simmons was cut off just then by some jackass honking their horn behind them, the lanky man’s entire body going rigid at the sound.  Grif promptly gave whoever it was the finger with an apathetic scowl on his face.

It was at this point that the tinted window right beside them rolled down, and Hargrove’s disapproving face appeared before them both.  “Do I need to remind you where we are?” he asked, his annoyance evident in his tone.

Simmons’ face lit up even more in embarrassment, “My—my apologies, sir!” He squeaked out before shooting an apologetic glance towards Grif.

The orange-wearing driver shrugged, “Sorry.” He muttered under his breath, more to Simmons than to the Charon chairman.

Grif shot Simmons a look that he hoped translated to “ _It’s cool, man._ ” before he went to put Simmons’ luggage into the trunk.  He didn’t need to see the pale redhead get into a panic attack over what had happened, guessing that was where they were headed if Grif didn’t help move things along to get back on schedule.

Simmons had let himself into the back of the car by the time the tan-skinned man was done closing the car’s trunk, and Grif wasted no time in driving down the road once more.  As much as he might want to catch up with Simmons, he knew it was best for the both of them to avoid pissing Hargrove off any more than their unexpected delay had probably done.  After all, the stuffy business types like Hargrove always had their schedules micro-managed to be the most time effective.  That was Grif’s idea of a personal Hell.

Simmons was currently sitting across from Hargrove, looking just as uncomfortable and awkward as he had out on the sidewalk before.  Not that Grif could blame him for that considering who he was sharing a backseat with.

“Um…tha—thank you, sir.” Simmons directed towards his boss, “For getting me from the airport.”

Hargrove said nothing to the redhead, choosing to instead merely look out the car window disinterestedly.

Simmons swallowed, “But a ride from the airport with you personally is…a bit excessive, don’t you think?” he continued.

“Simmons.” Hargrove stated without looking at the man in question, “It’s important that you understand what your current standing is.”

“I…” Simmons blanched before looking down at his clenched hands resting on his lap, “Y—yes, sir.  Of course, sir.”

“Good.” The elderly man nodded his head approvingly at the gesture, “Now, work will begin promptly tomorrow at seven.  I suspect you’ll have adjusted from the move by then?”

While the statement was posed as a question, Hargrove’s tone left little room for argument.  There was clearly only one acceptable answer to the chairman’s remark.

Simmons picked up on that thread as well, nodding his head, “Yes, I have the itinerary already, sir.” He informed Hargrove in full kiss-ass mode, something Grif often witnessed when around the intern Matthews at Project Freelancer.

There was more talk following that, but it was filled with the kind of business lingo that would cause Grif to fall asleep if he listened to it _too_ intently.  Which probably wouldn’t be a good thing considering that he was currently driving and all.

But, Grif did pick up that Simmons seemed to have some kind of secretarial position in Hargrove’s company, which explained his shocked reaction to Hargrove having come to pick him up personally.  Simmons no doubt was wondering why the head of Charon would deign to personally arrive at the airport to pick up a new low-level employee.  Grif sure as hell was wondering that himself.

Honestly, the whole situation certainly left more questions for Grif than answers, particularly when he was instructed to go _back_ to Hargrove’s estate instead of wherever it was that he assumed the redhead would be staying at now that he had moved back to Rat’s Nest.

Grif didn’t say anything though, and continued with his job as was expected despite his growing curiosity.  Tucker was right: he couldn’t afford to blow a pretty simple-yet-frustrating gig.

Out of the corner of his eye in the rearview mirror, Grif could see Simmons fidgeting nervously in his seat.  Every so often, the redhead would glance up as if to catch Grif’s dark-eyed glance.  However, whenever that _did_ happen, Simmons would look away with a blush forming on his pale skin.

Grif raised a dark eyebrow at the maroon-wearing man’s actions, but he wisely kept his focus on the road.

They arrived back at the estate a bit later due to heavy traffic.  As the car pulled up, Grif could see that the Charon security force had changed shifts while they were away.  Instead of a mocking Felix and taciturn Locus, it was now Tex and Kimball who greeted them.

Both women stood at the ready as Grif stopped the car and lazily opened the backseat door for Hargrove.  Tex flashed the heavyset man her trademark smirk while Kimball gave a slight nod of greeting to him.

“How was the trip to the airport, sir?” Kimball asked professionally as Hargrove made his way to the mansion’s entrance.

“Uneventful.” The older man’s reply was automatic, Hargrove not even bothering to look back in their direction at all as he spoke, “See to it that Simmons finds his way to his room.”

“Of course, sir.” The dark-skinned woman nodded as Hargrove entered the building.

Tex regarded the reluctant-looking man in question with a wry expression on her face, “Bet you’re going to love working for him.” She stated sarcastically.

Simmons looked positively deflated.  He couldn’t even bring himself to respond to Tex’s taunt.  Grif almost wanted to say something to the freckled man, but was at a loss as to how to comfort someone he barely fucking knew years ago back in high school.

Both Kimball and Tex shot one another concerned looks at the redhead’s disposition, and Kimball smiled gently, “It’s not…it’s not _so_ bad.” She told Simmons in a quiet voice.

Tex coughed, looking oddly uncomfortable in her attempt at being reassuring, “Well, the pay isn’t bad at least.”

Simmons looked at them then, smiling gratefully for the kind words.  All that did was pique Grif’s curiosity even more about _why_ Simmons was there in the first place.

But, first and foremost, he had a job to do.  Loath as he was to admit it, his lazy ass really couldn’t afford to lose so steady a gig as the Hargrove one was.  He opened the trunk and reached out for Simmons’ bag, just as Simmons himself apparently decided to do so.

Their hands, one thin and pale, the other tan and chubby, smacked into one another.

Both men paused at the contact, Grif suppressing the usual “ _Watch it, nerd!_ ” reaction he usually barked out in such instances, especially since Simmons pulled back as if his touch had somehow burned him.

“It’s okay, dude.” Grif joked, raising a dark eyebrow, “It’s not like I have cooties or something.”

Simmons’ face turned red in light of Grif’s mocking tone, “It—it’s not that, asshole!” He muttered angrily.

Grif smirked at the reaction he had just gotten out of the redhead, “Oh, so you _can_ snark back.  That’s good to know.”

His remark seemed to throw Simmons off-guard, and the orange-wearing driver used that opportunity to lift the baggage out of the trunk, pressing its handle into Simmons’ outstretched hands.  Simmons blinked, looking at Grif as if about to say something when…

“It’s best if we don’t keep him waiting.” Kimball stated, reminding the two men of just who’s driveway they were currently standing on.

“Right.” Grif nodded, “I should get the fuck out of here too.” He waved goodbye to Tex and Kimball before turning to Simmons with a smirk crossing over his features, “Guess I’ll see you around, nerd.”

He heard an indignant sputter come from Simmons at that, but Grif was already back in the car and pulling away from the Hargrove estate before the lankier man could form a coherent sentence.  But, at least he was leaving Simmons with a bit of fire in his green eyes.  That was way better than the nervous wreck the redhead had been before.

As he drove through the streets of Rat’s Nest, Grif’s mind raced with a ton of questions.  He couldn’t believe that Simmons was back in Rat’s Nest, and that he hadn’t known about it before _now_.

Why was the redhead back, and why was he working for Hargrove of all people?  Fuck it.  For that matter, why was Simmons _living_ at Hargrove’s place?

Grif frowned, not at all really sure if he wanted to know the answers to some of those questions.  But, he _did_ have a likely idea as to who could provide him with them in the first place.

The chubby man’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, teeth clenched as he headed back towards the Project Freelancer garage with lingering thoughts of red hair and a blushing face still forefront in his mind.

…Grif just hoped that, when he did swing by The Big Gulp later to ask his questions, he didn’t throttle Franklin Delano Donut before the pink-wearing café owner could answer them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I might not end up making the deadline for the official word count for NaNoWriMo, but I am having fun trying so far even as I get swamped with work and allergies make my sinuses all wonderful. XD
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read this! :D


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Dexter Grif came back to the garage just as Carolina was closing it down for the night, her hand resting on the front entrance’s door.  She nodded her head slightly in way of greeting, “Everyone else has gone home.”

That was fine by Grif, as he only had about half an hour to spare before The Big Gulp did the same.  The less time he spent at work the better it was for him.  He fucking hated having to do shit.  Besides, it was better to not have to deal with Sarge’s threats, or both Tucker and Church’s joking commentary on what exactly happened earlier in the day.

“Heading home yourself?” Grif asked his boss in way of small talk, secretly hoping she hadn’t suddenly developed a new chatty personality in the couple of hours since he had last seen the former Freelancer.

Carolina stared at him sharply for a few moments before responding, “It’s not really any of your business.”

Well, shit.  Definitely not a new personality then.  The chubby man should have figured that would have been her answer considering that Carolina really wasn’t one for polite conversation.

“Geez, sorry I asked.” Grif couldn’t help muttering under his breath all the same.

There was an uncomfortable silence filling the Project Freelancer garage for a few moments as the red-haired woman’s expression softened slightly.  It was almost as if Carolina had realized that she had maybe been a bit too harsh to one of her employees just then, but was uncertain of how to interact with him.

Finally, the awkward silence was broken as Carolina sighed, “How was your drive to the airport?  With Hargrove?”

Her question had the orange-wearing driver thinking back to earlier, her features reminiscent of ones he had seen today when out on assignment.  Grif found himself thinking of equally red hair and green eyes to Carolina’s own, only those features were framed by a face with a myriad spattering of freckles across it that the older woman’s face lacked.

Grif tried pulling the image of Simmons from his mind as he shrugged nonchalantly, “It went about as well as it usually goes.” He informed the cyan-wearing woman.

“Good.” She nodded slightly and closed the door fully, locking it using the nearby electronic key pad, “I don’t have to tell you how important it is to stay on his good side, Grif.”

Not that the old asshole really had a “good” side, but Grif understood well enough what she meant.  It was only through continued “good will” between Project Freelancer and Hargrove that the garage was even allowed to operate semi-independently.  Pissing Hargrove off in a big way could literally and figuratively end them.  Charon owned practically everything and everyone in Rat’s Nest.

…No fucking pressure or anything.

Grif nodded his head, “I know.”

“It’s a miracle that stunt Tucker pulled didn’t have more lasting repercussions.” Carolina noted with a sigh before promptly turning on her heels with a wave over her shoulder in the chubby man’s general direction, “Good night, Grif.”

“Night, boss.”

The redhead paused for a moment at his comment before starting up her walk again, as though what Grif had said had reminded her of something else.

After Carolina had disappeared from sight, Grif decided that it was time to head in the direction of Donut’s coffee shop nearby.  He was going to get some answers from the dirty blond whether the pink-wearing man liked it or not.

*****

The Big Gulp was located just a few blocks down from Project Freelancer, on the same street as Valhalla Clinic.

Grif went the opposite way when heading to The Big Gulp, the longer route that bypassed the clinic.  Sure, it was more effort on his part, but he sure as hell didn’t want to run into Sarge if he could avoid it.

The red-wearing former soldier would no doubt be on his way to see his girlfriend at Valhalla Clinic, and Grif had the feeling that he would need all of his patience for the conversation ahead of him.  That meant no time for maniacally crazy Sarge.  His sanity could only take so freaking much in a day.

The corner building that Donut’s coffee house was located at was an unassuming one, with rows of flowers in windowsills and a few coffee mugs and teacups put up behind the glass for decorative purposes.  Grif could already make out the interior paint color, even before he had stepped up to the building, due to the large glass windows and the glass door.  Of course, it didn’t hurt that the paint was a jarring shade of purple.  A paint chosen because Donut had not-at-all-jokingly asked Doc for his favorite color when deciding on hues.

Grif usually considered the quiet café a refuge of sorts due to how easily he could take a nap in it, but tonight he saw it as a place steeped in betrayal.  …Okay, even just stepping close towards The Big Gulp had one taking up Donut’s flair for the dramatics.

He sighed at the thought, quickly stepping inside the space.  As could be expected at this hour, The Big Gulp was nearly deserted.  The small tables and plush seating were empty save for one chair that was currently occupied by a fidgety young man in yellow.

Grif had to do a double-take because, for a moment, he almost thought that Simmons had suddenly changed clothes and was magically sitting in the café.  But, the auburn hair and familiar glasses gave away the identity of the younger-than-Simmons kiss-ass who was currently seated there.

“Matthews.” Grif said in way of greeting to the intern, figuring that it was only polite.  Or whatever.

Matthews, who had been reading a book while still managing to look nervous, started at his name being called.  He squinted upwards at Grif, nearly spilling his coffee in his attempt to stand up a second later.

“Gr—Grif, sir!” Matthews sputtered out in true suck-up fashion, clearly letting his surprise give way to his true nature.

Grif raised an eyebrow at the younger man’s behavior, surprised to see him so jittery, “Isn’t it a little late for coffee?”

Come to think of it, the kid was _always_ here even in his spare time.  It was almost as if…

“I…!” The younger man turned red-faced at Grif’s bored questioning and looked to the side, trailing off as if unsure how to respond.

Grif sighed, figuring he wasn’t going to get much out of the intern and that he should just get on his way.

“Is everything all right?” An apathetic voice cut in just then, causing Grif to pause.

Both men turned to see another young man with dark skin and multi-colored hair regarding them.  The newcomer had an orange apron on to signify that he worked at the café, and there was an uncaring air about him that Grif would almost admire in any other situation.  He seemed like a maverick.  Grif liked that.

But, truthfully, the youth’s dark eyes were anything but apathetic as he bore holes into Grif’s skull.  No, if anything, they looked fucking _pissed_.  Grif realized why that was as the café employee’s eyes flicked back and forth between him and Matthews.

The barista in the orange apron must have thought that Grif was _harassing_ the kid!

Grif put his hands up in the air defensively, “Everything’s fine.” He stated as lazily as he could muster, “I was just talking to Matthews here since he interns over at the garage I work at.”

The man, his name tag stated that his name was Antoine Bitters, glanced over at the sheepish-looking Matthews just then.

Matthews nodded his head in confirmation of what Grif had just told him, “I—it’s okay, Bitters.”

At length, Bitters relaxed and nodded.  “…Sorry.” He muttered under his breath to Grif.

Grif shrugged, “Eh, it’s cool.”

Truthfully, he was sort of glad to know that Matthews had someone in his corner.  Annoying as the kiss-ass could be, he was an okay kid.  Not that Grif would ever tell him that.  He had a fucking reputation to maintain after all.

“My shift is over.” Bitters informed Matthews without preamble a second later, as if Grif was no longer there, “I’ll walk you home.”

“A—are you sure?” Matthews’ face took on a vibrant shade of red again.

Grif raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  None of his fucking business.

“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” Bitters told the auburn-haired intern matter-of-factly, “Come on.”

He motioned for the door and Matthews nodded, turning to face Grif before leaving.

“See you tomorrow, sir!” He said in way of goodbye, before hurrying to catch up to Bitters.  The barista was standing just outside the café’s doorway, clearly waiting for the shorter young man to catch up to him.

That just left Grif and a pretty blond girl around Kai’s age in a pink barista apron.  She was evidently left to man the register at this time of night.  The blonde was staring after Matthews and Bitters with what appeared to be a knowing smirk on her face, and as Grif approached she smiled at him.

“Good evening, sir.” She informed him cheerily enough, “What would you like tonight?  I also have to tell you that we’ll be closing in ten minutes.”

So, in others words, a polite way of saying “ _make your fucking choice and get the hell out of here._ ”  Grif could respect that, especially since he barely wanted to work with customers even when they had a full work day ahead of them.

“Actually, I’m just here to talk to Donut.” Grif told her, “Is he in the back?”

“Um…” The blonde glanced over at the back door of the coffee shop, which pretty much confirmed Grif’s suspicions that the pink-wearing café owner was around.

Those suspicions were further confirmed with the door opening a second later, a dirty blond head of hair poking through, “Hey, Volleyball, why don’t we close a little early and—!“

Franklin Delano Donut cut himself off when he saw his heavyset friend standing there.

He blinked, caught off-guard for a moment before a smile as bright as the sun appeared on his face, “Oh, hey, Grif!  Fancy seeing you here so late!” Donut greeted enthusiastically, as if he hadn’t seen Grif in ages.

*****

Grif and Donut were seated at one of The Big Gulp’s tables with the café lights dimmed and the sign on the door turned to “ _Closed_ ” in order to deter any late-night caffeine junkies.  Donut had already sent his last employee, the oddly named Volleyball, home.  So, it was currently just the two friends catching up on business.

The cup of coffee in front of Grif remained untouched, a steady current of steam wafting up from it.  The two scones that Donut had placed before him, however, were gone cinnamon chips and all before the plate had even clinked onto the surface of the table.

Grif couldn’t fucking help it.  After all, he was an emotional eater.

“So,” Donut clasped his hands together in front of himself rather innocently even though his brown eyes had a rather knowing look to them, “What can I do for you, Grif?”

“Well, to start with you could get me more of those scones,” Grif stated without preamble before shooting Donut a pointed look, “And then you can tell me why you didn’t say anything about Simmons coming back to Rat’s Nest.”

“Oh, _that_.” Donut’s reaction to Grif’s comment only further fueled the chubby man’s suspicion that Donut had known all along what was going on, “Isn’t the answer to that a tad obvious?”

Grif said nothing, staring at his friend blankly.  He just didn’t have the fucking energy to play along with Donut’s game.

The café owner sighed dramatically before a gigantic grin suffused his features, “Obviously, I wanted it to be a surprise, silly!”

“A surprise.” Grif repeated, his tone both unbelieving and apathetic at the same time.

Donut nodded, “It was a doozy of one, wasn’t it?” He asked, positively beaming, “Though I have to tell you, it wasn’t easy keeping my mouth shut around such a juicy piece of news!  I was primed to burst a few times!”

Given Donut’s penchant for gossip, Grif couldn’t help but believe him.  Even if he worded his phrasing as strangely as ever.

“Besides,” Donut elaborated a second later, tapping his finger to an unknown rhythm on the surface of the table, “Simmons _asked_ me not to tell anyone.”

“Why?” Grif raised a dark eyebrow, “Because he’s working for a prick like Hargrove?”

A stricken look crossed over Donut’s features, “That whole situation is _really_ complicated, Grif.”

Grif could imagine, especially since Simmons was apparently _living_ with the old jackass.  But, he knew from the sudden way that Donut clamped up just then that whatever else the dirty blond knew about those circumstances, it was obviously something he didn’t feel comfortable sharing.

That bit of information only served to make Grif more curious, but he knew it was probably best not to pry too much.  After all, a shrieking, angry Donut was murder on the ears.  Plus, the pink-wearing man eventually got so high-pitched that he actually set off all of the nearby neighborhood dogs.

“I think Simmons just wanted time to adjust to things before meeting up with everyone again.” Donut finally said in way of explanation.

There was definitely more to Simmons’ situation than just that given the glimmer he saw in his friend’s eyes, but Grif knew enough not to press it.  He’d be needing a _much_ stiffer drink if he had to deal with Donut’s theatrics on top of everything else tonight.

“But, I bet seeing you must have been a real shock for Simmons too!” Donut concluded, nodding his head as though in agreement with himself, “Who knew Hargrove would bother picking him up at the airport like that?”

“It was a pretty big surprise for both of us.” Grif admitted at length, staring down at his untouched coffee mug.

“How sweet!” Donut exclaimed with a happy tone to his voice as he leaned over the table, beaming once more, “You know, you two really should catch up with one another.”

Had his crush on the nerd back in high school really been so obvious that apparently _everyone_ knew about it now?  Still, what Donut had said caught him off-guard somewhat and he felt his face feel hot.

“Why would Simmons want to catch up with me in particular?” Grif asked the café owner, “We barely talked in high school.”

Donut shot him a pitying look just then, and Grif had to resist the urge to give his friend the finger.  Just as Donut was about to say something else, there was a knock at the front door.

Both men started at the noise, though Donut rose to his feet when he saw that a pink glasses-wearing man dressed in a purple shirt with brown slacks was standing at the café’s entrance.  The newcomer was waving at the two of them through the glass.

“Hey, Doc!” Donut stated cheerily as he opened the door to allow the brown-haired medic inside, “How’s it hanging?”

Frank “Doc” DuFresne was a medic over at Valhalla Clinic where Sarge’s girlfriend, Doctor Emily Grey, worked.  He was mostly known for his very unorthodox medical practices there.  He also happened to be neighbors to Tucker, and so he would often babysit Junior in his spare time.

“Oh, I can’t complain.” Doc told Donut before nodding in Grif’s direction, “Hey, Grif!  Fancy seeing you here at this time of night.”

“You know, I told him the _same_ thing a little while ago!” Donut beamed at the coincidence, “What a small world, huh?”

The blush covering Doc’s features at this was not something that could be easily ignored by either of the other two men in The Big Gulp, “Y—yeah.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for _you_ to be here too?” Grif asked, not really caring about the answer either way.  He only had so many shits to give after all.

Doc grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his brown head of hair, “Oh, well, Tucker just got back and I was in the neighborhood, so…!”

“Oh, Doc always stops by for a quick chat after watching Junior or working.” Donut cut in, smiling, “Sometimes he even helps me with closing!  I have the best friends!”

Judging by the blush still coating Doc’s features, “friendship” wasn’t the only reason he came by to visit Donut.  Grif couldn’t help smirking slightly, but he chose not to say anything.  None of his damn business.  Instead, since he was getting the impression that he was quickly becoming something of a third wheel, the tan-skinned man gulped down the steaming brown liquid before him and got up.

“Well, I guess I should get going.” Grif said, heading past Doc and going towards the door.

“Remember what I told you about catching up with Simmons when you get the chance!” Donut called out, “Oh…oh!  You two could have a little date right here!”

Grif snorted at the prospect, trying to ignore the part of his brain that said that wasn’t such a bad idea as he stepped out into the night.

*****

It was much later, in the early morning hours in fact, when David Washington arrived for work at Charon.  He sighed as he approached the estate, already feeling a slight dread building up inside of him at the prospect of heading there once more.

At least he’d had the drive and subsequent talk with Tucker from earlier still at the forefront of his mind, and he was finding that actually walking back to work after such excursions was a good way to start the day off.

“Well, it certainly took you fucking long enough.” Felix’s familiar voice said from behind the blond as he stepped up to the front gate, “Did you get enough beauty sleep, _Washie_?”

Wash groaned at the mocking tone in his co-worker’s voice, turning around to face him.  Felix had emerged from behind a pillar, smirking and rubbing at a dark spot on his neck.  Washington was almost going to ask what had been going on back there when _Locus_ joined Felix, readjusting his green tie with an air of practiced efficiency and nonchalance.

Suddenly, Wash had a clearer idea of what the two mercenaries had been up to during their break.  His face went completely red at the image that suddenly sprang unbidden to mind.

“There’s a camera that you have to maneuver your whole body to get underneath of it _just_ so.” Felix informed the former Freelancer smugly, noting his reaction to having caught on to what the two security guards had been up to, “Makes things more exciting.”

“I…I…!” Wash sputtered as his brain was about to break.

“Felix, enough.” Locus cut in, thankfully saving Washington from his current mind freeze, “It’s time to get to work.”

“Ah, fucking killjoy.” Felix muttered under his breath, though he gave a slight nod of acquiescence all the same.

“We need to relieve Tex and Kimball within the next ten minutes.” Locus reminded both of them, “Let’s go.”

Washington allowed the taller mercenary to take the lead, grateful to be able to put his mind back to work for once.

*****

To be honest, patrolling the estate’s top floors wasn’t a very exciting assignment.  Basically, Washington was just there as a personal statement and to make sure that Charon’s top of the line security systems were running effectively.  He would be done with a patrol in about ten minutes, only for the whole process to start up again.

It was no wonder why Washington thought events over at Project Freelancer (even though he still couldn’t get over that name) were livelier than his workplace, especially whenever Tucker regaled him with stories about the garage.

Truthfully, the blond was very much looking forward to going to Project Freelancer again thanks to Tucker’s invite on account of that, even if it meant some awkward or even hurtful moments with Carolina.

Who knows?  Maybe Tucker’s optimistic and hopeful view was right and, if Washington tried more, the two former Freelancers would be able to eventually talk again just like old times.

“Um, excuse me?” A hesitant voice called out in front of him, only a short distance away.

Wash cursed himself for having momentarily been distracted by his thoughts, glancing over at the person who had spoken just then.  It was a tall man with red hair, green eyes, and nearly as many freckles on his face as Wash had.  The stranger was also younger than he was, probably around Tucker’s age now that he thought about it.

The former Freelancer recognized the newcomer from the Charon dossier he had been given earlier.  This was Richard “Dick” Simmons, Hargrove’s new personal assistant.  Evidently, Simmons was an old friend of sorts to Tucker and his group too.

This was Wash’s first time meeting the redhead directly.  He naturally assumed that Simmons needed some help finding his way around the estate given how large and daunting a place it was.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” Washington asked in a friendly enough voice.  Kimball and Tex had informed him of what had happened earlier with Simmons, and there was no need to scare the poor guy any more than working here probably did already.

“You’re David Washington, correct?” Simmons asked nervously without preamble, “F—from security?”

Washington was a bit surprised at the question, but nodded his head regardless.

“You’re friends with Lavernius Tucker from the Project Freelancer garage, right?” Simmons questioned him further.

Wash started a bit, surprised that Simmons would know that particular piece of information so early on into his return to Rat’s Nest.  Perhaps his shock showed on his face more than he cared to admit, because Simmons blushed slightly and stared at the ground sheepishly.

“It…it’s sort of my job to know those things.” The redhead mumbled in way of explanation when he realized the silence was growing.

“I—I see.” Washington straightened his posture, unsure of where this conversation was going.

“I also know that Texas hangs out there quite frequently too,” Simmons continued, “And that Kimball is looking into purchasing property in Blood Gulch.”

Washington _really_ wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.  Was Simmons going to rat them out to Hargrove, or even attempt to somehow blackmail them?  The comment about Kimball in particular would certainly lend itself to that…

He clenched his fists at his sides.  Simmons noticed, and his face blanched.  He quickly held up his hands in a placating posture of surrender.

“I—I’m not saying this to threaten you or anything, honest!” Simmons tried reassuring the security officer, his voice rising to higher octaves in his panic.

“Oh?” Washington raised a blond eyebrow, “Then why mention any of it at all?”

Simmons sighed, his shoulders drooping as his lanky arms sagged almost in defeat before he even answered the question.

“I was just…hoping you guys could do me a favor since you’re on friendly terms with Project Freelancer.” Simmons looked up before quickly adding upon seeing Wash’s incredulous face, “A—a personal one.  Nothing to do with Hargrove.”

Washington nodded at the urgent and assuring tone in Simmons’ voice, now more curious than cautious since the redhead _seemed_ harmless enough, “What kind of favor are we talking about?”

“The next time you go to Project Freelancer,” Simmons spoke in a rush, obviously wanting to get all of the words out before he lost his nerve, “Can I come too?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is done! :) I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. :)
> 
> Just a head’s up, I’ll probably be taking a quick break from this story soon to get out another chapter of _Remnants_. My goal is to at least get out another chapter of that story and _When We Were Soldiers_ in November along with this story too, before picking up _Shiny Things_ again in December. Though don’t worry if you’re a fan of _Just Drive_! My main focus for the month of November will definitely be this story since it is my NaNoWriMo project. Hopefully all of the chapters will get out in a decent amount of time this month! :)
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read this! :D


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The sounds of Lopez and Sarge working on cars filled the Project Freelancer Garage employee breakroom.  Dexter Grif sighed, managing to stifle a yawn in the process.

He wondered just how long he needed to stay and pretend to be professional before he took another break.  After all, there was always the rare instance that someone needed to hire a ride, a looming threat of work constantly hanging over Grif’s head.

As it was, the only real reason that the chubby man wasn’t currently taking a nap was because Matthews had once again brought coffee and baked goods back from the Big Gulp.  He scarfed down a muffin, distantly remembering asking Matthews earlier how that barista, Bitters, was.

Not that Grif particularly cared, but he felt like it was only polite to offer some kind of small talk before partaking of baked goods that he hadn’t technically bought himself.  He watched apathetically as the intern’s face went bright red, the kiss-ass somehow managing to stammer out that Bitters was just fine.  Now Matthews was hiding out in one of the garage’s backrooms.

Considering how embarrassed he had been, the auburn-haired intern probably wouldn’t be coming out of there for several hours.  That is, unless Carolina eventually forced the younger man to.

But, that was probably unlikely since she had gone into her office at the start of the work day and hadn’t come out since.  Not that Grif was going to complain about her absence.  As a self-proclaimed lazy employee, he tended to benefit from the boss not hanging around to supervise.

Out of the corner of his eye, Grif could see Church staring at his sister’s closed office door with a look of growing frustration and worry.

“You going to check in on her?” Grif asked, not really caring about the answer but figuring he might as well fake concern.

Church snorted, turning his blue-eyed gaze from the direction of the door, “Yeah, like I _want_ my fucking head ripped off right now.” He remarked testily.

Grif shrugged lazily, “Better you go than one of us.”

“Ugh.  Don’t remind me.” Church let out a long-suffering sigh, “You assholes better be grateful I’m so charitable.”

“Oh, we are.” Grif couldn’t help but counter sarcastically, reaching for another muffin.

Church gave him the finger in return.

Tucker rolled his eyes at their behavior, his own brown eyes fixated on the closed door, “Any idea what Carolina does in there?” he asked, “I mean, I know when _I_ have a door closed all day it usually means I’m—!“

“Tucker, that’s my sister in there.  So, if you try finishing that sentence I will fucking end you.  Or get her to do it.  Whatever.” Church cut the dark-skinned man’s comment off with a glare before shrugging, “And I don’t know.  Business stuff, I guess.”

“We’re hardly ever fucking busy here!” Tucker exclaimed, putting down his coffee cup.

Church gave him a blank look, “Well, why don’t _you_ ask her if you’re so goddamned curious?” He countered.

“No thanks.  I like being able to walk straight.” Tucker scoffed at Church’s notion as if it was the dumbest idea he had ever heard ( _it was_ ).

Grif remained silent throughout their exchange.  Truthfully, so long as he still got paid he could care less about the mystery looming in their midst.  After all, it wasn’t like Carolina would do anything that would jeopardize the garage.

No, if he cared more about things in general, he would be worried that Caboose hadn’t come back yet from his errands because that probably meant that the blond had gotten lost.  It wasn’t uncommon for the blue-wearing “errand boy” to get distracted somewhere along the way back to the Project Freelancer Garage.

Grif saw Church glancing at the clock on the wall and frowning, which no doubt meant that he was thinking along the same lines.  Damn it.  Now Grif felt like he kind of should care at least a little bit. 

Right before Grif could suggest that they send Andersmith out again to look for Caboose, the view out of the breakroom was blocked by three figures standing in the doorway.

Church’s face momentarily lit up at the appearance of Tex, while Tucker did a double-take at the sight of one of the people behind her, “No fucking way!” he stated in disbelief, standing up from his chair to head over to them, “You actually did it!”

Washington’s face turned slightly red at the attention, and he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, “Well, I told you I would, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you actually would!” Tucker was beaming happily.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Washington muttered sarcastically under his breath.

There was an awkward fidgeting from behind the blond and Tex.  Grif started at the sight of red hair and nervous green eyes that met him.  He had to do a doubletake then because, _seriously_ , what the fuck was _Simmons_ doing there?

*****

Twenty minutes later and Grif was still pondering over that very question as he and Simmons had been less-than-subtly tasked with finding Caboose.  If the tan-skinned man ever found himself having the drive or energy to do so, he seriously needed to get new friends.

He could still picture the smirks that had been on Tucker, Church, and Tex’s faces as they had all but shoved the two of them out the door.  Tex was, of course, all too eager to join in on the “fun” once she suspected what was going on, while Washington looked on in good-natured confusion.  No doubt Tucker would fill him in on what was happening later.  The asshole.

Even Andersmith’s offer to help was rejected on the grounds that the older intern, along with Sheila, needed to help convince Matthews to leave the backroom that he was still holed up in.  It seemed as though Grif’s friends just loved coming up with new ways to make things weird for him.

Grif let out a tired, long-suffering sigh as he and Simmons headed towards Armonia Park.  He had a feeling that Caboose was likely there, no doubt snapping up pictures with Freckles of the changing leaves to show Church later.  It was a pretty good guess considering that it had been where Andersmith had found the blond the last two times he had gotten lost.

Simmons, who had been mostly quiet ever since they had been shoved outside of the Project Freelancer Garage, was walking awkwardly next to him.  The redhead looked for all the world like he would bolt if Grif so much as _sneezed_ the wrong way.

Not really a big fan of uncomfortable silences himself, though comfortable ones were a whole other story, Grif glanced over at the fidgety redhead in maroon, “Sorry that you got dragged into this too.  I guess.” He muttered.

Simmons blinked, apparently taken aback that Grif had even _deigned_ to talk to him.  In a way, his reaction reminded Grif of the few times he had spoken privately to Simmons back in high school.

At length, the maroon-wearing man managed to squeak out a reply, “It—it’s okay, Grif.” He assured him, “Really.”

Grif raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure?  Because I’m pretty certain that if I had time off from working for Hargrove, I wouldn’t want to be doing chores that I wasn’t getting paid for.”

Simmons’ face flushed, “He’s…not _so_ bad.” He mumbled.

Grif rolled his eyes, “Give it a few more days and you’ll see.”

Simmons said nothing in reply, frowning and looking lost in thought.  His green eyes were taking in the expanse of the park that they had just walked into.  Grif watched him do so, having nearly forgotten that Simmons hadn’t been back to Rat’s Nest since before the park had opened.

It was a new experience for the nerd, and it showed quite a bit on his freckled face.  Simmons wore such a look of quiet awe over something that Grif had taken for granted in the years since it had been created that the chubby man couldn’t help staring.

When Grif realized that his gaze had probably lingered for far too long, he coughed slightly, “Caboose should be around here somewhere.” He muttered under his breath.

Simmons nodded, “I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”

“Pretty sure you haven’t.” Grif replied, staring around at the various trees and foliage, “He met Church a few months after you left.”

“I see.” Simmons shifted on his feet awkwardly, “They’re roommates, right?”

“Along with Tex.”

“Ah, because she and Church are…” The redhead’s voice trailed off, face going red.

Grif smirked at Simmons’ reaction, “Because they’re _together_ , you mean?” He teased, “Aw, man, to think you can’t even say something like that without blushing!”

“I—it’s not that funny, jackass!” Simmons shot back quickly.

Even though the lanky man’s face had turned a brilliant shade of red by this point of the conversation, there was an indignant fire flaring to life in his eyes.  Grif absolutely loved it.

“Hey, your weird hang-ups aren’t anything to me.” Grif told Simmons nonchalantly, trying to cover up his amusement as he shrugged his shoulders in an indifferent manner to further prove his point.

Simmons sighed and seemed to count to ten mentally before risking another glance at a far too smug Grif, “Everyone new that I met at the garage seemed nice.” He started up conversationally after a few moments.

Grif snorted, “Give it another few visits and you’ll change your mind.”

Simmons raised a red eyebrow, “Really?  Then why still work there?”

Grif replied with another shrug of heavyset shoulders, “A man’s got to eat, Simmons.” He stated in a pseudo-sage voice.  There were a few moments of silence, and Grif sighed before elaborating, “But I guess they’re okay, for a bunch of assholes.”

Simmons seemed rather relieved by the answer, “Donut really seems to like everyone.” He noted quietly, “He always talks about them in his letters.”

“He actually writes you _real_ letters?” Grif looked over at Simmons in disbelief.

Simmons nodded, “With handmade stationary and calligraphy, no less.  Oh, and they’re scented.”

Grif whistled.  That sounded _a lot_ like their mutual friend, all right.

“He always complains when I shoot him back an email instead.” Simmons was smiling somewhat at the recollection, looking somewhat relaxed now that they were on a less tense subject.

“I’ll bet.” Grif mumbled, deciding that not only did he like this side of Simmons, but that he wanted to see more of it in general.

Simmons turned to fix Grif with a look, one that was both hesitant and curious all at the same time, “How is your sister doing?” he asked tentatively.

Grif started a bit at the question, surprised that Simmons even remembered that he had a little sister to begin with.  He could count the number of times on one hand that they had probably met when Simmons was still living in Rat’s Nest.

“She’s good.” He finally responded, “She’s attending college now and being a pain in my ass.  As usual.”

Simmons nodded his head and smiled somewhat wistfully, “You two always had an interesting dynamic.”

Grif snorted, “If by “ _interesting_ ” you mean “ _driving each other up a fucking wall_ ,” then yeah.”

Simmons looked embarrassed once more, sheepishly turning his attention to the ground, “W—well, I never had any siblings,” he shrugged helplessly, “So I always thought it was great how you had her back.”

Grif raised an eyebrow, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re weird?”

“A—am not!” Simmons’ voice rose in pitch with his indignation.

“Uh-huh, sure.  Just keep telling yourself that, Simmons.” Grif teased him.

Simmons slumped slightly as if in defeat, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have bothered.” He muttered under his breath.

Grif nodded his head in agreement, grinning self-satisfactorily, “Probably not.  But it does beg the question, _why_?”

It was the question Grif had been asking himself ever since he had seen Simmons at Project Freelancer.  He figured now was as good a time as any to ask it.

Simmons looked up from his self-defeated posture to glance over at Grif questioningly, “What do you mean?”

Grif figured he might as well take the plunge fully if he had gotten to this point, “Why come to the garage in the first place, let alone let yourself get dragged along on this silly “ _Find Caboose_ ” errand?” He asked the redhead, “Fuck, for that matter, why come back to this shithole at all?  Why work for Hargrove?”

Why _live_ with Hargrove too?  Though Grif couldn’t bring himself to ask that question just yet.  It already looked as if he had bombarded Simmons with enough questions given how red-faced and withdrawn the other man suddenly seemed to be underneath his questioning gaze.

“I—I well, that is…” Simmons started stammering as if in a panic.

Afraid that Simmons might actually pass out from lack of oxygen with all of his gasping, Grif instinctively reached out and put a steadying hand on his shoulder, “Easy now, Simmons.” He stated quietly, trying a joke to lighten the mood, “This is where you tell me to fuck off because it’s none of my business, right?”

Simmons swallowed in a huge gulp of air, his eyes fixated on the lingering hand still planted gently on his shoulder.  His blush intensified as he shook his head, “N—no, it’s…okay.” He finally mumbled, “It’s just…” Simmons paused as if wracking his brain for the right word to describe everything, “Complicated.”

“Complicated.” Grif echoed, nodding his head a second later, “All right.  So, a politely worded “ _fuck off_ ” it is then.”

Simmons looked downright _stricken_ as Grif reluctantly withdrew his hand, “That’s not—!“

“Grif!” A familiar voice shouted from behind them, cutting the nerd off, “And a new person I don’t know!  Hello, new person!”

Almost reluctantly, Grif and Simmons both turned around to find the smiling face of Michael J. Caboose.  The younger blond-haired man had a pile of leaves in one hand, and he was clutching his smartphone in the other.

“Freckles,” Caboose said to the phone then, “Say hello!”

“HELLO.” A surprisingly booming voice came from the phone.

Simmons, seeming both relieved for the interruption and disappointed all at once, glanced over at Grif questioningly.

“His phone is named Freckles.” The orange-wearing driver said in way of an explanation, as if that would clear everything up.  From the look of confusion deepening on Simmons’ face, it did not.

“Did you come to play in the park too?” Caboose carried on, his voice excited as he looked around, “Is Church here playing hide-and-don’t-seek?”

“Actually, Caboose, Church is playing that game back in the garage.” Grif stated calmly, with a practiced air, “He’s waiting for you to come back and _not_ find him.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Simmons stated quietly in disbelief from where he was standing next to Grif.

Grif shot him a “ _just give it a minute_ ” look.

Caboose nodded his head at what Grif had told him, “Oh, he is the best at that game!  I have to tell him what a great job he is doing!”

With that, Caboose ran forward past both Grif and Simmons in the direction of the Project Freelancer Garage.  Simmons stared after the blue-wearing man in continued disbelief, while Grif smirked at the puzzlement on his face.

“It is never boring around here.” He remarked, unable to keep a slight tone of enjoyment from his normally apathetic-sounding voice at Simmons’ reaction, “Trust me.  I’d rather it be fucking boring.”

Simmons shook his head before turning to look at Grif, a smile subconsciously beginning to form on his features that looked quite nice on him, “Tell me about it, fat-ass.”

*****

Tucker could not stop staring and grinning at Washington, even as he showed the blond where his car was parked just inside the garage.

“What is it?” David Washington finally asked with a bit of a sigh.

“Nothing.” Tucker said far too quickly for it to be true, the grin on his face growing impossibly large, “I mean, it is that here you fucking are!”

“Here I am.” Wash couldn’t help repeating with an amused look crossing over his features.

“I just never expected you to actually listen to me, you know?” Tucker’s voice had an excited edge to it, as if he had just won some amazingly fantastic prize instead of just hanging out with Washington.

“I get that.” Washington rolled his gray eyes but couldn’t help himself from smiling at Tucker’s enthusiasm, “What do you mean by “ _actually_?”  I always listen to you.”

Tucker snorted, “Yeah, but actually listening and actually _doing_ are two very fucking different things.”

Wash frowned, “Telling me to find a new job isn’t exactly practical advice at the moment, Tucker.”

Not for lack of trying, at any rate.

“Well, it totally should be, dude.” Tucker scoffed, but even the mention of one of their often argued about topics of discussion didn’t seem to be able to detract from his good mood.

The fact that it was merely Washington showing up here that caused such happiness to sprout inside of Tucker?  Well, the former Freelancer couldn’t describe how ridiculously happy that made _him_ feel.  He really needed to rein in his feelings for the other man, and pronto.

Evidently, the blond wasn’t the only one who thought so given the long-suffering groan that came from across the parking space just then.

“Get a fucking _room_ already, you two!” Church shouted at them when his dark-haired face came into view.

Both Tucker and Washington turned slightly red at the exclamation, though Tucker quickly recovered and promptly gave Church the finger for good measure.

“Like you’re one to talk, Church!” Tucker shouted back, “What are you and Tex even doing back here?”

“ _Not_ what we came in here for with you two assholes in the way!” Church retorted.

From next to him, Tex rolled her brown eyes.  She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded Church coolly.  “Classy.” She noted, sarcasm dripping from the word.

Church took a step back from his girlfriend as if afraid that she might be gearing up to punch him, but the blonde simply seemed more amused by the man’s eagerness than anything else.

The cobalt-wearing man groaned at the realization, “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

“That you’re totally and completely whipped?” There was a mischievous glint in Tex’s eyes, “I don’t think so.”

Church turned to glare at Tucker and Wash, “Thanks a lot.  Assholes.”

“Hey!  That’s totally on you, dude.” Tucker noted with what could be equated to a shit-eating grin.

Church muttered something about hating his life while Tex slapped him a little too jovially on the back, Tucker watching the exchange with a knowing sort-of look crossing over his dark-skinned features.

“We better go see what the others are up to, unless you want to see something I bet you’re too young to see.” Tucker informed Wash.

“Tucker, I’m older than you so what the hell are you talking about?” And then Washington paused as understanding began to dawn on him, his face going red, “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.  _Oh_.” Tucker repeated, grabbing Washington’s hand and pulling him towards the door.

Wash let himself be pulled, enjoying the feel of Tucker’s hand on his.

*****

Three of the other Project Freelancer Garage employees had situated themselves in the work area of the building, Sarge and Lopez having finished up their work for the day and currently sitting with Sheila.

The personal assistant was currently going over a paper with the Spanish-speaking mechanic, their heads bent low together.  Washington didn’t want to disturb the pair as they seemed to be in the middle of something important.  Fortunately, the unencumbered Sarge caught sight of Tucker and Washington first.

“Andersmith is still trying to coax Matthews out,” Sarge informed them without preamble, “And there’s still no sign of Caboose or that good-fer-nothing Grif.”

Wash frowned, knowing that Simmons had gone with Grif to find Caboose.  Well, it was more like the redhead had been _forced_ to go along with the heavyset man.  He hoped that Simmons and Grif hadn’t gotten lost or something along the way.  He would hate to have to tell Hargrove that he lost his newly acquired assistant.

“Si todavía no lo han encontrado, apuesto a que la gorda está llenando su rostro en alguna parte.”  _{“If they haven’t found him yet, I bet the fat one is stuffing his face somewhere.”}_

Sheila smiled slightly and shook her head at whatever it was that Lopez had just said, not bothering to translate for the rest of the group.

“Well said, Lopez!” Sarge agreed with whatever it was that he _thought_ the other mechanic had said, “That Simmons fellow is far too timid to stop Grif from gorging himself yet again.”

Lopez looked up, sharing a surprised look with Sheila: “Mierda, eso es casi lo que dije.”  _{“Holy shit, that’s nearly exactly what I said.”}_

“I know, Lopez, I know!” The older man sighed a long-suffering sigh, “If I had the authority, I would have fired his keister long ago too.”

“No importa. Se me olvidó que incluso un reloj roto está justo dos veces al día.”  _{“Never mind.  I forgot that even a broken clock is right twice a day.”}_

Lopez sighed himself, though he couldn’t help but smile slightly when Sheila reached over and touched his arm gently.  That action led to Washington looking down towards his own hand, still grasped gently in Tucker’s warm one.  He sincerely hoped that Tucker wouldn’t notice anytime soon.

Washington hadn’t been around the garage in so long.  He had nearly forgotten just how lively and entertaining everyone here could be.  A part of him really missed it.  He made a mental note that he should try to stop by more often, particularly if Tucker would always continue to act so happy to see him every time he did manage to come over.

Tucker seemed to notice the blush that was beginning to form on the blond’s freckled face.  The teal-wearing driver looked as though he was about to question what was up when, thankfully for Washington, a door opened towards the back of the building.

Everyone in the work area were still very much in their relaxed postures, most likely assuming that the two interns, Matthews and Andersmith, were the ones entering their midst.  None of them seemed to be expecting their boss, Carolina Church.  The redhead strode into the main area of the garage as her green eyes took them all in, saying nothing.

Tucker’s hand almost reluctantly left Wash’s own then, and Washington suddenly felt rather cold standing there.  Leave it to Carolina to kill the mood, as her brother Church so often said.

It was Sarge who broke the silence first, straightening up and saluting in an old habit of his from his service days, “Boss.”

Carolina nodded in his direction, a momentary look of fondness crossing over her features at the oddball assortment of so many of her employees there.

That look faded when her gaze landed on Washington, her entire posture stiffening, “Wash.” She stated in way of greeting, only slightly inclining her head towards him at the same time.

Washington swallowed down the urge to call her “ _Boss_ ” as Sarge had done just like how he had so many times in the past, instead opting to go with a squeaked out, “Carolina.”

Tucker glanced between the two former Freelancers in the same fashion as the other three Project Freelancer Garage employees did.  Then, to ease some of the tension in the room, the dark-skinned man blurted out, “Tex is here too.  With Church.”

Carolina glanced in Tucker’s direction wryly before settling her cold as ice stare back on her former teammate, “That doesn’t shock me.”

Tucker looked over at Washington then and shrugged helplessly, obviously completely out of his element.  Not that the blond could blame him.  Carolina could, and often did, scare the shit out of most people.

Washington sighed, the cheerful feeling of being back at the Project Freelancer Garage suddenly fading.  Now he remembered why he had decided to stay away despite liking the overall atmosphere of the place.  The sad thing was that he didn’t blame Carolina for feeling and acting as she did.  He would have likely felt much the same in her position.

He turned to leave, deciding it was for the best to make a quick exit of things before it get any more awkward or uncomfortable for everyone while making a note to call Tucker later to apologize), “Well, I think I should get go—“

“Wait.”

It was surprisingly Carolina’s voice that stopped him, her tone just then more request than outright demand.  It was enough to catch Wash off-guard.  He turned around to face her, catching the equally surprised and curious looks of Tucker and the others in the process.

Carolina took in a deep breath as though what she had to say was hard for her ( _maybe it was_ ), “Your mechanic friend…Kimball, is it?”

Washington nodded, surprised that Carolina remembered that detail about Kimball considering that the dark-skinned woman had been to the garage even less than Wash had.

“I hear she wants to start up a business in Blood Gulch.”

This was the second time that someone outside of the usual circle knew that information.  It was quite a curious, almost unsettling, turn of events.  Washington raised a blond eyebrow, immediately turning his head to Tucker questioningly.  The dark-skinned man looked just as surprised as he felt, mouthing something along the lines of not having had the chance to talk to her about it yet himself.

“How’d you find that out?” Washington finally asked Carolina, voice dry.

This was, after all, more Kimball’s private business than anything else.  For it to be so widely known…

Carolina shrugged, “That really isn’t important.”

Washington would beg to differ, but he knew that would be pointless to do with Carolina of all people.  Besides, he not only wanted to see where this was going, but it was also a rare instance in which he was almost having a friendly conversation with the red-haired woman.  He didn’t want to mess that up.

Still, he couldn’t help but be caught off-guard once more by what Carolina had to say next on the Kimball matter.  She took in another deep breath of air, standing her ground, “If possible, I’d like for you to arrange a meeting between the two of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, Andersmith did eventually convince Matthews to stop hiding in the backroom. They even went to Donut’s Big Gulp later so that he could see Bitters again! XD
> 
> There might be a slight time-skip in the next chapter, as well as possibly the inclusion of some more character POVs. I still haven’t decided yet if I will do so or just keep it only at Grif and Washington’s POVs currently. Still, I hope that you will enjoy the next part and that you had fun reading this chapter too! :)
> 
> Thank you very much for taking the time to read _Just Drive_! :D


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Lavernius Tucker asked from where he was sitting next to Washington at the restaurant’s bar, their heads leaning so casually close together that they were nearly touching.

While David Washington enjoyed their current proximity more than he’d probably ever care to admit, he couldn’t help but sigh and roll his eyes at the question that had been repeated so very often this night.

“ _You’re_ the one who suggested this, remember?” Wash tried reminding the dark-skinned man yet again.

Tucker scoffed, “Yeah, but that was back when I didn’t think you would agree to it.”

By “it,” the younger man meant essentially spying on the nearby business meeting between Carolina and Vanessa Kimball.  Ever since Carolina had asked Washington to help arrange some kind of rendezvous between the two of them, the two women had been conversing with one another for a few months through mutual associates and encrypted messages.

Washington had to admit that he was a bit surprised by the venue for their first face-to-face meeting.  A casual restaurant didn’t really strike him as either Carolina’s or Kimball’s style.  He supposed it made sense to talk about business on neutral territory in a way, but this?  This was almost too date-like to be considered a good location to discuss business.

Even just sitting at the bar here with Tucker felt quite a bit like being on a date.  Not that Washington would ever say that out loud or dare complain about it, of course.

“I honestly didn’t think you were serious about spying on our friends.” Wash noted in response to Tucker’s remark.

“Dude, aren’t you just a _little_ curious?” The other man countered, hiding his face behind a menu as his gaze wandered over to the table where Carolina was currently sitting, “I mean when was the last time that Carolina even went out?”

Wash frowned, knowing the answer all too well.  The redhead _hadn’t_ gone out anywhere or done anything remotely outside the realm of work ever since York had passed away.  Likewise, after Doyle’s death, Kimball had devoted herself more to her work than ever before.

That’s why it had definitely caught him off-guard when both women had announced the location of their eventual get-together as a casual downtown restaurant with a friendly, relaxed atmosphere.  Certainly nothing was going to keep them from talking business there if they were so inclined, but it was definitely a different type of atmosphere to find either of them.

Given that, the former Freelancer would be lying if he said that he wasn’t at least a _tad_ curious.

Besides, having helped in part to get Carolina and Kimball talking to one another had actually improved his relationship with Carolina quite a bit.  She had been friendlier to Washington these past few months, to the point where it almost felt like old times again.  As a result, a part of him really wanted to see just how things would ultimately play out with this odd scenario.

Not to mention, Tucker’s own desire to spy on his boss meant that he could be in for a whole world of trouble.  Washington felt like he _had_ to watch out for the teal-wearing driver.

The fact that it gave them something else that they could do _together_?  Well, that wasn’t lost on Washington either.  Still, it _was_ a ridiculous predicament that he had allowed the handsome younger man to put him in all the same.

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” Washington muttered, taking a sip from his drink of water.

“Neither can I.” Tucker admitted, “Trust me, dude, the second I said something I thought you’d be a total fucking killjoy.”

“I am not a “killjoy.”” Wash muttered defensively, “I’m just practical.”

“Code word for killjoy.” Tucker said, grinning.

Washington sighed, his gray-eyed gaze going into the direction of Carolina’s table.  The red-haired woman had just finished perusing the menu for the fifth time since she had sat down and was now glancing at her wristwatch.

By some miracle, it seemed as if she hadn’t caught onto the two men yet.  Washington let out a sigh of relief.  Maybe there was still time to put a stop to this ridiculous plan before it backfired on them spectacularly.

Washington turned back to face Tucker, “You know, maybe we should—“

“Leave before someone notices that you’re spying on them?” An all-too familiar voice said from behind them, “I agree completely.”

Now that they had been thoroughly busted, both Tucker and Washington glanced at one another before reluctantly turning around.  Vanessa Kimball was standing there, dark-skinned arms crossed over her chest.  While there had been a slight edge of annoyance to her tone just then, it appeared as if her brown eyes were glistening more with amusement.

“Kimball.” Wash felt his mouth going dry, “We were just—“

“Leaving.” Carolina’s voice spoke up a second later as she came to join Kimball in standing in front of the now doubly busted Tucker and Wash, “Weren’t you, Washington?  Tucker?”

“Yeah, yeah.  We know when we’re not wanted.” Tucker groaned, “I’m going to be in a shitload of trouble, aren’t I?”

“We’ll see how work goes later.” Carolina said, actually sounding more _amused_ than anything else.  She shot a conspiratorial glance over at Kimball, who smiled slightly before returning the gesture with a nod.

That was when it all fell into place for Wash, who asked them knowingly: “How long have you known we were here?”

Carolina smirked, “Since you both sat down at the bar.” She noted, “Your stealth skills need some improvement.”

“Carolina texted me on my way here.” Kimball added, a bemused glint still in her eyes.

Tucker let out a sigh before turning to Washington, “Man, we were fucking busted right from the start.”

“I’m afraid so.” Kimball told him with false sympathy lacing her voice.

Tucker tipped an imaginary hat in their direction, “Well, I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He repeated from earlier, flashing them a grin, “Enjoy your evening, ladies.”

As Tucker and Washington left the restaurant, Wash could see both Carolina and Kimball sitting down at the table that Carolina had been occupying before out of the corner of his eye.  Both women were smiling.  If Tucker’s “spy escapade” was something that helped offer a pleasant diversion for them, then it was worth it.  Still, he couldn’t help but be curious about _what_ exactly their meeting would really be about.

As they entered the brisk night air outside, Tucker stretched his arms high above his head, “Well, there goes my plans for the evening.” He informed Wash, a twinkle lighting up his dark eyes as he asked a second later, “Wanna go get something to eat since we didn’t get anything in there?”

Washington couldn’t help but smile at the prospect as he nodded: “Let’s go.”

*****

The car moved forward, Dexter Grif feeling the hum of the engine reverberating through his fingers on the steering well.  Well, maybe that was more his imagination than anything else.  But, hey, one had to romanticize a job a bit to keep it semi-interesting.

“We checked with security at the event.” Felix’s voice sounded bored as he talked, his back to Grif in the passenger cabin of the car, “Everything should be fine.”

“Should be?”

From the rearview mirror, Grif could see Hargrove’s eyebrow as it arched up disapprovingly at Felix’s choice of words.

Felix seemed to realize his mistake and was no doubt making a face at that very moment, “Sorry.  It _will_ be fine.”

Of course, Hargrove was one who wanted everything in terms of absolutes.  “See to it that it is.” The older man commanded, gazing disinterestedly out the car window as he did so.

Grif was pretty certain that the face that Felix had made before was still plastered on as he sarcastically mumbled, “You’re the boss.”

…The mercenary was no doubt _very_ good at his job to get away with that kind of lip, especially to Malcolm Hargrove of all people.

From next to Felix, Locus turned his head to shoot his partner a pointed look before speaking up, “We’ll check with security once more to see how they’re set-up again when we get there.”

Hargrove nodded his head, remaining silent.  Evidently that settled the matter for him.

“Um…”

It did not, however, have the same effect on Richard “Dick” Simmons.  Grif started slightly at the sound of his friend’s voice, staring at the redhead fidgeting in his seat next to his intimidating-as-all-fuck boss.

“A—are all these security measures really necessary, sir?” Simmons asked Hargrove, “It _is_ a business gala, after all.”

Hargrove turned to stare at his personal assistant who wilted quite a bit under his gaze.  Grif winced, feeling bad for the poor guy.  After all, all the kiss-ass had done was ask a fucking question.  “You can never be too careful when it comes to business matters, Simmons.” The older man stated at length.

“Our boss likes to err on the side of caution.” Felix was most likely smirking at the sight of Simmons squirming just then.  Grif found that he was gritting his teeth at the thought as the orange tie-wearing guard informed the redhead smugly, “Let’s just say he isn’t the most popular around town.”

“Felix!” Locus hissed out his partner’s name in annoyance.

A flash of mild annoyance crossed over Hargrove’s weathered features at Felix’s comment, “You forget your place, Felix.”

Felix shrugged his shoulders at the warning tone in his employer’s voice, “I’ll be sure to remember it from here on out.  _Sir_.”

Hargrove stared at Felix a moment longer as Grif turned the car right, the banquet hall where the gala was being held directly ahead of them.

“I always find these types of events tedious, especially when business is discussed with them.” The chairman muttered under his breath before casting a glance over at Simmons and the file he was carrying protectively to his body, “Are the papers in order?”

Simmons gulped nervously and glanced down at the neatly organized folder for what was probably the umpteenth time knowing the nerd’s obsessive compulsive habits, “Y—yes, sir.”

“Good.  We’ll begin talks immediately once the festivities are underway.”

Felix whistled appreciatively, “Corporate takeovers and parties.  Fun times all the fuck around.”

Perhaps fortunately for the orange and black-wearing mercenary, Grif pulled up to the entryway of the gala at that exact moment.  Both Locus and Felix beat the driver out of the car, their eyes carefully scanning the area for any potential threats with a complete and utter air of absolute professionalism.  When they seemed to spot nothing out of the ordinary, Locus opened the car door to allow Hargrove to step out.

The chairman turned to face Simmons, “I expect you to join me in a few minutes with the contracts, Simmons.” He stated before beginning to walk away.

“Y—yes, sir.”

Simmons waited until Hargrove, Felix, and Locus were inside the building before he let out the breath of air that he had apparently been holding for quite some time.

Grif raised a black eyebrow, “Nervous, are we?”

The red-haired man glanced up at Grif’s smirking face in the rearview mirror before letting a tiny, sort-of smirk form on his own, “You could say that.”

Grif grinned.  Simmons had been coming by the Project Freelancer Garage along with Washington and Tex for a few months now.  Despite the nervous energy that still flitted about the redhead every so often, particularly around Grif himself for some reason, the two had developed a pretty friendly rapport with one another.

It just sort-of sucked that when Grif was on the clock like this for Hargrove, they could really only banter like they had started doing more of in tiny moments such as this.

Grif actually really liked Simmons’ company, even if he teased the shit out of the nerdy kiss-ass too.  “You could always ditch.” He offered, “I won’t tell anyone.”

Simmons rolled his eyes, “Yeah, like I need to make things even harder for myself.  Asshole.”

The tan-skinned man shrugged, “You’re the one working directly for Hargrove.” He said in way of a response, “I figured you were already a glutton for punishment.”

Simmons frowned but said nothing.  An awkward silence descended over the car, and for a moment Grif was afraid that he had overstepped some personal boundary.

The chubby man was about to say something to try to fix things when Simmons let out a sigh, his grip on the file he was carrying tightening.  “I should go.” He muttered, green eyes not looking at all pleased at the prospect.

“I’ll be here.” Grif motioned with his head to the parking lot, “Should you decide to ditch for a little while after all.”

Simmons snorted at the notion.

“Hey, you’ve gotta learn to live dangerously, Simmons.” Grif advised him in a sage-like voice.

“Says the guy who is going to be taking a nap in the parking lot?” Simmons raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“It’s called “rebel napping” when you’re on the clock, and it is fucking awesome.”

Simmons smiled slightly and shook his head, “I think I’ll just have to take your word on it.” He muttered as he slipped out of the car.

“Steal me some food while you’re in there?” Grif asked hopefully.

Simmons’ smile widened slightly at the normality of their banter just then, and Grif was glad to see at least a little of his nervousness abate, “We’ll see, fat-ass.  We’ll see.”

*****

Grif was fairly certain that he had a couple of hours left to kill before _anyone_ from the Hargrove party would come by looking for their ride home.  These fancy event gigs tended to last for quite a while.  He took advantage of the situation in the best way possible, by “rebel napping” as he had described it earlier to Simmons.

Oh, yeah.  The orange-wearing driver could be a true maverick when he wanted to be.  So, Grif sat himself down in the driver’s seat of the parked car, leaned back, and promptly closed his eyes.  He tried not to think of what Simmons was up to as he dozed.  Even putting so much as a modicum of worry into his naptime would offset the whole delicate process of obtaining the ultimate snooze.

Besides, he was certain that his overachieving friend was fine despite Simmons’ nervous energy from before.  All the redhead evidently really had to do here tonight was play nice to some big wigs, something that his kiss-ass self excelled at already.  Plus, hand Hargrove a folder when asked for it.

Fuck, _Grif_ could probably do that himself in his sleep if he was so inclined.  Which he wasn’t, because that would be pretty boring even by his standards.

With thoughts of Simmons out of mind, Grif was free to relax.  He had long since figured out that worrying about what trouble Kaikaina Grif was getting herself into whenever he wasn’t there to chaperone his little sister was pretty fucking pointless, so there was really _nothing_ holding him back from getting a few decent hours of glorious, glorious naptime right now.

…Or, that would be the case if some _jackass_ would stop knocking on the window of the passenger side of the car.

Grif let out a defeated sigh and cracked a dark eye open to see just who was sadistic and cruel-as-fuck enough to disturb his rest time, surprise hitting him straight on a second later once his brain caught up with what he was seeing.

_Simmons_ was standing there, looking slightly hesitant and for all the world like a lost puppy.  The moment he realized that Grif was staring right at him, the redhead wrapped his arms around himself to block out the chill of the night air.

After Grif continued staring at him dumbfounded for a few more seconds, Simmons rolled his green eyes in exasperation, “Let me in, fat-ass.” His voice was muffled by the closed car doors, but there was no mistaking the slight note of impatience in his tone.

Not that Grif could blame him.  Currently, the autumn weather was pretty chilly.  Simmons had neglected to wear a jacket over his tuxedo, no doubt on account of the party being indoors.

“Well, since you asked so nicely, kiss-ass.” Grif muttered sarcastically, fiddling with the locks.

Simmons threw the chubby man a grateful look as he practically dove into the passenger’s side of the car, promptly shutting the door on the cold outside before it could seep in any more than it already had, “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” Grif lazily turned to regard the redhead, a smirk splaying over his features as he did so, “I have to say, I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on the whole “ditching” thing.  Maybe I’m rubbing off on you more than I thought.”

Simmons’ pale face turned red and he frowned, “Hardly.  There’s been a change of plans.” He stated at length.

Something about the awkwardness in his tone caused Grif to raise an eyebrow curiously, “Oh?”

“A…a friend approached Hargrove with a p—proposition for tonight after the event.” Simmons was turning fire hydrant red now and squirming in his seat, “A lady friend.”

“Eww.” Grif really didn’t want to hear any more details than that on the subject.

Bad enough that _he_ hadn’t gotten any in a long time, longer than he would ever care to admit, but to now know that _Malcolm Hargrove_ was?  The mental images coming to mind right then and there would be sure to haunt him for _years_ to come.

Simmons sighed, “So after his business was concluded, he said that I could just leave if I wanted to.” He squirmed again, “His…ah, _friend_ , has a ride they’ll be taking.”

“I’ll bet.” Grif also could only imagine how Felix and Locus must feel about the change in plans.

Shaking his head to rid himself of some truly disturbing thoughts, he gripped the steering wheel and reached over to turn on the ignition, “So then, do you want to go back right away?”

He would still be paid for the full night either way, so Grif was rather happy about getting to call it in rather early.  Simmons was silent for a moment, looking rather lost in thought.

Grif glanced at his maroon-wearing passenger questioningly.  The redhead’s mouth was pressed into a thin line and he clenched his hands into fists in his lap.  It seemed as if Simmons had just won some inner debate amongst himself.  His face once again took on a reddish hue that blended in nicely with his freckles.

“A—actually, if it’s all the same to you…” Simmons began hesitatingly, “Could we maybe…hang out instead?”

Grif raised a dark eyebrow, but didn’t say a word.  He wasn’t fucking sure how to respond to that request.

Simmons fidgeted in the passenger’s seat, his blush intensifying until his face was practically _glowing_ in the parking lot’s lamplight, “I mean, we don’t have to…”

The tan-skinned man shook his head at Simmons’ comment, “Nah, man.  It’s cool.” He reassured Simmons, smiling a little at the prospect himself, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Re—really?” The personal assistant visibly relaxed once he heard Grif’s remark.

Grif nodded, “Would have fucking said otherwise if I did.”

Simmons nodded himself, the blush on his freckled features still remaining, “Thanks, Grif.  I mean it.”

Grif said nothing for a few seconds as he turned on the car’s ignition.  As the engine flared to life, he glanced over at the man seated next to him with a smug smirk beginning to play across his face.  “You didn’t bring me back any food, jackass.” He noted with fake disappointment dripping from his voice.

Simmons couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Hurry up and just drive, fat-ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five chapters in and a character finally said the title of the story! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this chapter too! :)


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The cool Rat’s Nest night air had gotten a lot chillier by the time Lavernius Tucker and David Washington emerged from the restaurant where they had gotten dinner.  Much to the former Freelancer’s chagrin, Tucker got to choose the restaurant, so of course it was a fast food place.

The two men hadn’t thought to bring Tucker’s car with them on their Carolina and Kimball “spy mission,” which meant that they were currently walking.  It was chilly, but Washington brought a jacket with him and Tucker didn’t seem to mind the frigid temperature.

Truthfully, the dark-skinned man _was_ leaning closer towards Washington than was probably necessary.  But, the blond was far from wanting to call Tucker out over it, particularly given the slight redness to the other man’s cheeks every time he glanced over in Washington’s direction.

The whole experience was _nice_ , if Washington was being completely honest with himself.

“Hey, stop.” Tucker spoke up suddenly, glancing around the street they were on just then, “Look where we ended up.”

“Hmm?” Washington felt his own face reddening at the realization that he had spent so long glancing at Tucker and just being _happy_ in the teal-wearing man’s presence that he actually had no idea where they even were now.

His gray eyes followed the trail of Tucker’s pointed finger towards a familiar-looking building on the corner.  He recognized the café instantly.  It was the one owned by Tucker’s friend, Donut.

The horribly named The Big Gulp.

Washington blinked, having no idea when their feet had carried them to this part of the city.  He was definitely always preoccupied with other thoughts when in Tucker’s presence.  His Freelancer skills were suffering.

The café’s lights had been dimmed, with a sign in the window denoting the coffee shop’s “Closed” status.  One could even see two of the establishment’s employees cleaning up for the night through the windows.  The baristas were a boy and a girl, college-aged.

The boy was dark-skinned and wearing a teal apron, while the girl was tanned-skinned and wearing a maroon one.  It seemed that the boy was using one of the brooms the employees were cleaning with to try to serenade the girl, though she was merely shaking her braided brown hair as she good-naturedly smiled at his efforts.

“Huh.  So, Palomo _might_ have a chance with Jensen after all.” Tucker mused as the two bystanders watched the interaction from the street.

Washington glanced over at Tucker in mild surprise, “You know them?”

Tucker nodded, “They’re friends with our two interns, Andersmith and Matthews.”

Those names were familiar.  Washington easily recalled faces to go with them.  Andersmith was the older of the two interns by quite some years, and he seemed to have developed quite a rapport with Caboose if memory was serving Washington right.  Matthews was a rather shy and awkward young man who often seemed to be coming or going from The Big Gulp.

Washington supposed it was no wonder that the two interns were familiar with the coffee house workers given that.

“They’re okay kids, even if Palomo can be an annoying pain in the ass.” Tucker noted fondly.

The girl, Jensen, was now lightly hitting Palomo on the back.  The two café employees appeared to be laughing at something that the boy had just said.  It seemed like the older men were witnessing a private moment between the two youths, and that realization was kind of awkward.

Washington was wondering if they shouldn’t move on their way given that, “Do you…want to step in and say hello?” He asked Tucker hesitatingly, hoping the other man would say no.

Tucker shook his head, evidently of the same mindset as Washington was, “Nah.  Let’s give them some room.”

Washington nodded gratefully before the two walked on in mutual silence, simply enjoying the night air and one another’s company.  However, Tucker would pull out his phone and check it every so often.

Washington had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why that was, and when he noticed Tucker doing it for a fifth time, he broached the subject: “Checking in on Junior?”

It was understandable, really, that Tucker would want to do so when out late at night.

Tucker nodded, putting the phone away once more, “Doc seems to have everything under control, but I don’t know.  I might have to call it a night soon.”

That was, again, more than understandable.  Tucker _was_ a father, after all.  While he hadn’t met Junior yet, Washington knew how much the dark-skinned man adored his son.

Washington nodded his head appreciatively, “Junior’s a fortunate boy.”

Tucker grinned self-deprecatingly, “I don’t know if I’d say _that_ , but he’s definitely a fucking awesome one.”

Washington smiled at the fond tone in Tucker’s voice, “I’d love to meet him some day.”

Tucker paused then, dark eyes staring at Washington in what appeared to be bewilderment, “You _would_?” he asked.

The blond-haired man nodded, surprised a little by Tucker’s reaction.  Had he said something wrong?

“Be—because I’d been thinking about that, actually.” Tucker’s voice was more hesitant than Washington was used to it being, “About you meeting Junior.”

Now it was Washington’s turn to be surprised, “You have?”

Tucker nodded, his face taking on a slightly reddish hue that had very little to do with the cold night air, “Yeah, man.  We’ve been friends for…what?  Several months now?”

When Washington nodded, Tucker took a deep breath and continued, "So, I figured maybe it was time, you know?” he fidgeted, “For the two of you to meet.”

Washington felt his own face go slightly warm at the potential implications of what this meant, “I’d love to, Tucker.”

“You’re not shitting me, are you?” The younger man’s eyes narrowed slightly at the thought, “Because that would be pretty fucking low.”

“Of course not!” Washington assured him, “I’ve been wanting to meet Junior for a while now, especially with all the praise you’ve given him.”

“All right.  Cool then.” Tucker visibly relaxed, “So it’s settled.”

“I’m glad.” Washington truly meant it.

“Why don’t we meet at The Big Gulp in about a week?” Tucker asked, nodding to himself as he formulated the plan, “It’ll be neutral territory and all that shit.”

Washington was amused by the amount of care and thought that Tucker was putting into this, but he could understand why.  Introducing new people to children was something major, especially…especially if that person was _what_ to you exactly?

The former Freelancer couldn’t bring himself to ask, opting instead to simply nod, “It’s a date, then.”

“A date.  Yeah.” Tucker was nodding his head exuberantly, “Fucking awesome!”

Neither man made any comment on their choice of words just then, both eagerly happy and nervous about the upcoming event at the same time.

*****

The car ride was completely silent, though it was the comfortable sort of silence that Grif honestly didn’t fucking mind.  He actually found that he _liked_ sharing these types of moments with the redheaded nerd sitting next to him, almost as much as he seemed to thrive off of the conversations and even arguments they had with one another.

Since Richard “Dick” Simmons apparently had no idea of just where he wanted to go beyond “ _not back to the estate yet_ ,” Grif turned his car to the well-lit and familiar street of his own home address.

If his passenger didn’t mind, he figured he should check in on Kai.  Or some fucking responsible thing like that.  It didn’t even cross his mind that he was technically bringing Simmons to his house.  …At least, not _really_.

His sister’s old beat-up car, that she had stubbornly insisted on paying for herself and subsequently refused to take in to get maintenance by Sarge or Lopez despite it looking like it could break down at any second, was parked in the driveway of the Grif siblings’ humble, two-level abode.

The chubby man supposed he could at least thank their deadbeat parents for having paid the damn thing off before bailing on a teenaged Grif and a middle school-aged Kai, though their leaving had still left Grif to figure out how to pay the utilities at far too young an age.  Still, they had always managed to have a roof over their heads, even if said roof sometimes leaked inside his bedroom in particular.

It seemed that currently the lights in the house were on too, which meant that Kai was no doubt inside.  …Hopefully studying, but he kind of knew that was wishful thinking on his part.  All the lazy man could really hope for was that his little sister was, at the very least, not partying _too_ hard.

Simmons looked at the house for a few moments, blinking.  When recognition seemed to hit him about where they were, he turned his head to look over at the driver.  For some reason, the nerd’s face was already starting to go red again.

“W—why are we at your house?” Simmons finally managed to squeak out.

Grif shrugged nonchalantly, not seeing what the big deal was. “You said you didn’t care where we went, and it was one of the first places that came to mind.” He answered truthfully.

“Y—yeah, but…” Simmons frowned and looked away, his blush intensifying.

Grif sighed, “See that car over there?” He motioned to Kai’s yellow piece of junk ride, “That’s my sister’s.  Kai.  You remember her.”

Simmons nodded, staring at the car and saying nothing.

“Well, I haven’t seen her in a while because our schedules are so messed up.” Grif told him in way of explanation, “So I just want to make sure she isn’t getting her dumbass self into any more trouble than usual.”

“I—I see.” Simmons seemed to relax at the ever so plausible explanation.

“Good.  So, is it cool if we stop by here for a little while?” Grif asked even though he was already turning off the ignition, indicating he didn’t really care what the kiss-ass answered with.

Simmons glanced at the house with the lights on and nodded slightly, his face still held a reddish hue as he followed Grif out of the car.

*****

The first thing that Grif noticed upon opening the door to allow Simmons and himself into the house was that the person who was sitting on the living room couch was definitely not his sister.  No, rather, he was surprised to find that it was the blond-haired girl who worked at Donut’s café.  The oddly named Volleyball.

The blonde stood up quickly in surprise at finding the two men standing in the doorway, relaxing a fraction of a minute later upon recognizing Grif.

“Oh!  You’re Kai’s brother, right?” Volleyball stated awkwardly, nodding her head in greeting, “We’ve met before.”

“At Donut’s café.” Grif tilted his head slightly at the memory, “Volleyball, right?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed the back of her head and let out a nervous sort-of laugh, “It’s a silly nickname, but now it’s stuck.”

Grif was about to ask her the more important question of what she was doing inside his house, when the answer presented itself not a second later.

“Hey, Volleyball!” Kaikaina Grif called out, plodding down the stairs with several DVD cases in her hands, “I found some great ones in my brother’s stash that we can—!“  She stopped herself a second later when she caught sight of Grif and Simmons standing in the doorway, “Ugh.” She made a face in her brother’s direction in particular, “Don’t you ever _knock_?”

“It’s my house too, Kai,” the orange-wearing driver raised an eyebrow at the various action flicks that his little sister had evidently just pilfered from his room, “And who said you could just grab my movies?”

“It’s called _sharing_ , jackass.” Kai stated matter-of-factly, sticking her tongue out at him and joining Volleyball in front of the couch.  She put the stockpile of movies on the coffee table close by.

The older man rolled his eyes at his sister’s words, “Only if you ask first.” He countered.

“Asking’s for chumps.” Kai replied, grinning mischievously.

Grif couldn’t help but sigh at how much of a handful his sister could be.  It was around this time that the young woman in question finally caught sight of Simmons cowering behind Grif.

She paused in frustrating her older sibling to focus on the newcomer instead, “You look kind of familiar.  And hot.” She stated at length, “For a nerd.”

Simmons’ shoulders sagged at that last part, and Grif smirked, “She’s got you there, dude.”

“Sh—shut up, jackass!” The maroon-wearing man shot back.

Grif’s smirk widened before he turned his attention back to his sister, “Simmons is an old friend of Donut’s.” He explained, “You met him a few times in middle school.”

Recognition slowly crossed over her features then, “Oh, yeah!  Now I remember you!  The other gray guy!”

“Um…” Simmons glanced between the two siblings questioningly, not sure how to respond to her odd choice of words.

But, Kai wasn’t done yet.  There was an excited twinkle in her brown eyes as she motioned towards Simmons and her brother before she asked, “So how long have the two of you been banging?”

Simmons’ face took on a nearly purple color then, and he started sputtering so much that Grif was nearly afraid he would collapse due to lack of air.

Grif, being the awesome maverick that he was, took his sister’s comment in stride, his face only heating up slightly as he asked her, “How long have the two of you been?”

Volleyball blushed slightly at the question, though Kai seemed nonplussed by it, “We’ve been dating for a few months.”

“K—Kai’s a bit of a regular at The Big Gulp.” Volleyball stated in way of further explanation.

“Gotta love a place with that kind of name!” Kai grinned, “And the coffee’s the shit too.  But, only when Volleyball or Donut makes it.”

Volleyball shot Kai a fond look for the compliment, and Kai grinned back at her.  But, then she put her hands on her hips and pouted, “Don’t go changing the fucking subject!” She all but shouted at her older brother, “You didn’t answer my question, asshole.”

“Because it’s not happening and it’s none of your business.” Grif shot back quickly.

“Aw, you suck!” Kai stuck her tongue out at him again.

Grif sighed, knowing how interacting with Kaikaina Grif could be a handful for even people normally lazy like he was.

Kai stood there, staring at the two men for a few more seconds before making a “ _Tsk!_ ” noise under her breath.  She turned to Volleyball, “Well, why don’t _we_ go out then?  We’ve already studied way too much.  My fucking head’s about to explode!”

Volleyball glanced from her girlfriend over to her brother and Simmons, “Sure, I guess.” She stated at length.

Grif frowned, “Kai—!” he began, but she cut him off.

“I know, I know!” The tan-skinned girl rolled her eyes and stuck her chest out in her best Dexter Grif impression, “ _”Don’t embarrass the family!”_ or some bullshit.  You’re such a broken record, Dex. You suck!”

From behind him, Simmons snorted in laughter.  A look from Grif was enough to stifle it, though there was still an amused glimmer in his green eyes.

Grif sighed and looked over at the two young women, already bundling up to head outside, “Just…be careful, all right?”

“What are you now, a _cop_?” Kai glared at him in annoyance before rolling her eyes once more, “We’ll be fine.”

Grif and Simmons moved into the living room as both Kai and Volleyball headed to the door.

Before leaving, Kai spun back around, “Oh yeah!  I got some food for you for whenever the hell your shift was done or whatever.” She glanced at Simmons with a mischievous smirk on her face, “Might be nice if you actually saved some of it for your date here.”

Simmons’ blush intensified yet again as Grif rolled his eyes, “He’s not—!“

“Keep telling yourself that.” Kai cut her brother off, waving as she and Volleyball exited the house, “Later, bitches!”

There was an awkward silence following the girls’ departure, and Grif sighed.  He rubbed the back of his head absentmindedly.

At length, a still blushing Simmons took in a deep breath and smiled shakily, “She’s lively, huh?”

Grif groaned, “She’s _something_ , all right.”

Simmons sat down on the couch, looking carefully around the cluttered space, “So this is your house?” He asked, glancing distastefully at several candy bar wrappers and soda cans left in a pile on the coffee table.

“Don’t worry, Simmons.  When you have a space of your own, you can nerd it up as much as you want.” Grif advised him, grinning when Simmons rolled his eyes and gave him the finger in response, “I’ll give you the grand tour after we eat.” Grif was in such a generous mood that he was willing to even split the four triple cheeseburgers and fries that Kai had undoubtedly gotten him with Simmons, “But let’s see what’s on T.V. first.”

With that, he clicked on the remote.

Unfortunately for him, his sister’s antics had hit home yet again and he had just turned on the porno channel that she had no doubt tuned their T.V. cable to.

He groaned as a steady sound of moaning hit his ears, “God damn it, Kai!”

…He could just hear his little sister laughing her head off right about now.  Simmons had gone as stiff as a board, his face as white as a sheet.  No doubt he was thinking of having a full-blown panic attack at any second.

Grif glanced at him, almost feeling bad enough to want to apologize, but he couldn’t let his “maverick” image get too far away from him.  “What’s wrong, Simmons?” He asked as nonchalantly as he could given the circumstances, “Want me to turn it off so you can run away?”

Simmons glanced over at the tan-skinned man, nervously swallowing, “I…I was just about to ask you the same thing, jackass.” He countered, voice a lot higher pitched than normal.

Grif grinned at Simmons taking the bait, sitting down on the couch so close to Simmons that their knees nearly touched, “Oh, yeah?  Then why are you shaking?”

“I—I am not!” Simmons’ green eyes flared in embarrassed defiance.

“Uh-huh, sure.  Whatever you say, Simmons.” A particularly loud moan from the T.V. filled the room just then, and Simmons blanched as Grif gave his best shit-eating grin, “Let’s make this interesting.”

“H—how?” Simmons looked at the chubbier man doubtfully.

“We both sit here and watch.  Whoever gets up first loses,” Grif suggested, “And they owe the winner fifty bucks.”

“Watch…porn?  Together?” Simmons squeaked, face going red, “Isn’t that a little…weird?”

Grif shrugged, “Hey, if you’re not man enough for it, you can just pay me the fifty bucks now.”

Simmons frowned, his face lighting up at the challenge despite the massive blush that was still looming across his features, “You—you’re on, fat-ass!”

Grif smirked, his own face feeling oddly warm as well.  They had just agreed to play what was probably the weirdest fucking game of chicken ever, but who the hell cared?

If both men found themselves not-as-subtly-as-they-thought staring at the person sitting next to them, neither of them felt like drawing attention to it either.  Just part of the unspoken rules of the game.

Grif felt so oddly elated that he didn’t even comment too much on winning fifty dollars in the end.  The orange-wearing driver found that he was content just to see the blush still creeping over Simmons’ face when they finally called it a night.  They both went to the kitchen to get their cold-ass-ice food, neither man minding the comfortable as fuck silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing for Kai is always fun! :)
> 
> So, in the next chapter, Wash will finally meet Junior. He and Tucker might finally admit that they are out on a date (sort-of! XD), and both Grif and Simmons might get even closer to one another! Other stuff will probably happen too! XD
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate it (happy Thursday if you don’t!). Thank you so much for reading this chapter! :)


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“I’m just saying,” Dexter Grif’s voice filled the car’s cabin matter-of-factly, “Getting bit on the ass by a radioactive monkey would be the weirdest fucking way to get super powers.”

There was silence for a moment as Richard “Dick” Simmons spluttered at the chubby man’s remark, “Wha—what?” He began, red-faced, “How’d you even…how’d you even fucking come up with that?”

Grif shrugged lazily, “Hey, you’re the one who asked.”

Which was true enough although the orange-wearing driver honestly wasn’t sure how the kiss-ass got onto the topic in the first place.  Still, let no one ever say that Dexter Grif couldn’t win a debate about super powers.

The tan-skinned man almost, _almost_ felt bad for the poor nerd.  Now that he thought about it, Grif guessed that the redhead had probably only brought the subject up to save face on the ride back to Hargrove’s manor after losing so spectacularly at their earlier game of “ _porn chicken_.”  The maroon-wearing man was nicely predictable like that, something that Grif appreciated since he didn’t have to waste energy figuring shit out.

Simmons settled back into the shotgun seat, huffing at his inability to trounce Grif’s logic before another thought seemed to cross his mind.  “Wait a minute,” he stated, looking contemplative, “How’d the monkey get to be radioactive in the first place?”

Grif glanced at the pale-skinned man momentarily, raising a dark eyebrow, “Really, Simmons?  _That’s_ what you’re going to focus on in this scenario?”

Simmons blushed, “It—it’s important to have all the facts, jackass!”

Grif laughed, “If you say so.  Nerd.”

He was surprised by how intently Simmons was staring at him then, and it was enough to almost make Grif self-conscious.  It was fucking strange how much in _awe_ Simmons seemed to be at just a mere laugh.

The heavier set man coughed to change subjects, turning the car left as he did so, “Any…anyhow, another fifteen or so minutes and you’ll be back home.”

“O—oh.” Simmons seemed to physically deflate at the news, sinking further into the seat next to Grif’s as his eyes anxiously glanced at the streets they were passing by.

Given the sudden change in the redhead’s demeanor, Grif couldn’t help asking, “I take it you’re not too keen on living there?  With Hargrove, I mean?”

Simmons quickly shook his head, “It’s not…that…” He began in a faltering voice that clearly said _yes, yes it was_.

Grif sighed, knowing it was none of his business but curiosity getting the better of him anyways, “Can I ask why you’re staying there?”

If Simmons _really_ didn’t want to answer, he wouldn’t push it.  It wasn’t like he fucking really cared, as that would be way more effort on his end than most conversations Grif partook in required.  Still, he was man enough to admit that Simmons’ display of reluctance just then was enough to get even a lazy-ass like Grif to ask about it in the first place.

He figured he must have hit a nerve since Simmons was silent for a few moments.  Grif sighed, assuming that the socially awkward man wasn’t going to answer at all.

At length, before the chubbier man could just tell him to ignore the question and not have a freaking panic attack over it, Simmons spoke up: “My father’s company was a long-time rival of Hargrove’s.”

Grif whistled, knowing that must have meant that Simmons came from a seriously well-to-do family.  He vaguely recalled Donut saying something along those lines back when they had been teenagers too.

“My father made a bad business decision at one point, and Hargrove offered to help bail our company out.  On the condition that he gain control of half the company’s assets.” Simmons continued, frowning in thought, “That included transferring several employees to Charon Industries.”

“Including you?” Grif surmised, putting the pieces together as to why Simmons had suddenly returned to Rat’s Nest after such a long absence.

Of course that’s what had happened.  Simmons’ employment at Hargrove’s business was something akin to brandishing a trophy.  It was the equivalent of rubbing salt in his dad’s wounds.  That was probably even why Hargrove was oh-so-generously letting Simmons stay at his manor while the redhead was working as his aide.

Simmons nodded in response to Grif’s question, his freckled face’s expression suddenly more serious than any of the ones that he’d worn all night.  The orange-wearing driver could understand why.

The situation was fucked up, and for some reason _really_ pissed Grif off to no end.  However, it was not at all surprising to him, especially given how much of a jackass the old man was.

That sentiment must have been evident on his face before he had been able to school his expression into a more neutral one because Simmons shifted in his seat and spoke up reassuringly, “B—but it’s not _so_ bad.  In a way, it’s not at all that different from when I was working for my father.”

_That_ comment gave Grif pause, and he frowned at the notion that Simmons was so _used_ to all of this.  Did the guy just grow up thinking it was okay to be treated like a doormat?  Was he that fucking desperate for praise and approval?  Talk about having fucking daddy issues.  No wonder Simmons was such a neurotic kiss-ass.

The chubbier man’s silence as they approached Hargrove’s manor made Simmons uneasy, “Gr—Grif?”

Grif’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his brown eyes staring straight ahead, “Yeah, but what is it that _you_ want to do, Simmons?” He asked quietly.

Simmons blinked, not understanding or processing the rather out-of-the-blue question, “W—what?”

They were at the manor now.  Grif stopped the car and looked over at the redhead sitting next to him, “What is it that _you_ want to do?” He repeated, just as quietly as before.

Simmons frowned, glancing through the windshield contemplatively, “I—“

The lankier man was cut off, however, by Felix opening the car door at his side.

“Fucking _finally_.” The orange tie wearing security guard exclaimed with a roll of his eyes, “Something else happening to stave off the mental images tonight’s brought on.  Even if it is a fat-ass and a nerd.”

Oh, right.  Grif had forgotten that Felix and Locus had been stuck with Hargrove during his “ _date night_.”

Locus was standing just behind Felix, his gaze stony as he intoned seriously, “Felix.”

“I know, I know.  Geez, it’s not like I’m saying the old guy _can’t_ get any.  Just that he shouldn’t when I’m around.” He rolled his brown eyes again before his gaze finally flickered over to the two silent people sitting in the car, “You coming or going?” He asked Simmons, “’Cause it’s no fucking skin off our asses either way.”

Simmons became a bit red-faced at the attention being placed on him, and he cast one more glance over at Grif before he shakily nodded his head and exited the car.

Felix closed the car door shut behind him with a bored wave to Grif before he sauntered the few steps over to Locus, whispering something in the taller man’s ear.  When Felix turned around to regard Grif again, it was with a knowing smirk on his face.

Grif frowned at the bodyguards, but waited until Simmons had hurried inside without a backwards glance before he started driving away.

He wasn’t sure _why_ exactly, but Grif had really wanted to hear Simmons’ answer to his question.  The lack of a response from the redhead still lingered uncomfortably in the car, just like the nerd’s absence.

*****

“Can’t you guys get another room?”

When Grif came in to work the next day, he was greeted immediately with the sight of Sarge making out with Doctor Emily Grey on the hood of one of the cars that had been taken to the garage for repairs.

Lopez and Sheila were standing in the opposite doorway, Lopez looking quite exasperated at the scene playing out before him as well.

“Es difícil reparar los coches con ellos sentados encima de ellos.”  _{“It is difficult to repair the cars with them sitting on top of them.”}_

Sheila smiled at the sudden smirk crossing over Lopez’s face at whatever it was that he had just said before playfully hitting him in the arm, “I think it’s sweet.” She interjected with a laugh.

Slowly, languidly, as if to keep torturing those in the Project Freelancer garage, the couple tore apart. 

Grey was smiling, clearly unapologetic for the public display of affection.  Sarge was beaming himself, even as he glared over at Grif for his earlier comment and muttered something about “ _shotguns_ ” under his breath.

“Hello!” Caboose poked his head in-between Sheila and Lopez at the sound of the other door having just been opened, “Guess who I ran into!”

“Well, I take it you mean Doctor Grey?” Grif raised an eyebrow at Caboose’s exclamation.

The blond-haired younger man nodded, “The nice doctor lady came back here with me to see the sergeant mechanic.” Caboose stage-whispered, “Isn’t it sweet?”

“Es algo, está bien.”  _{“It’s something, all right.”}_

Sheila hit Lopez playfully on the arm again before nodding her head in agreement with Caboose, “Yes, Caboose.  It’s very sweet.”

“He was wandering around the clinic, so I brought him back.” Grey stated in way of further explanation.

“Only because you programmed the GPS on Freckles to do that.” Grif couldn’t help but point out.

Both Sarge and Grey looked at each other once more and smiled, “Guilty as charged.” They both stated at the same time, kissing one another once more.

Grif shook his head and turned away.  He needed _way_ more caffeine in his system so early in the morning in order to deal with the two resident mad scientists in their midst.

Lavernius Tucker entered the Project Freelancer garage building just then from the door that led out to where his and Grif’s cars were parked.  It was the same entrance that Grif had used, and the chubby man suddenly contemplated using it as an exit to get the hell out of there.

If he found a quiet place to hide in, he might actually get a fucking nap in before Carolina inevitably found and then consequentially murdered him for skipping work.  Probably not worth the fucking risk.  Barely.

When Tucker got closer, the orange-wearing driver noticed that his dark-skinned face looked incredibly ashen.  There was even a tense sort of energy in Tucker’s body language.

Grif raised an eyebrow at his friend’s odd demeanor, “What’s with you?” He asked, “Did you find Church and Tex going at it in your car again?”

The teal-wearing man blinked when Grif spoke up, as if noticing the others there for the first time before shaking his dark-haired head at the question, “Nah, dude.  But, I’d check _your_ car later if I were you.”

Grif groaned, “Fucking perfect.”

Tucker sighed before continuing as if Grif hadn’t spoken, “But I _am_ meeting Doc and Junior over at Donut’s place in a few minutes.” He shook his head, “Man, I’m nervous as fuck!”

Everyone else exchanged curious glances with one another at this bit of news since it wasn’t like that was a strange occurrence.  Doc was Junior’s babysitter after all, and the purple-wearing man and Donut were lovey-dovey and practically glued at the hip.  You’d think Tucker would be used to that kind of thing by now.

“What’s making you nervous about that?” Grif inquired lazily when it was apparent that no one else was going to bother to do so, “You do that all the time.”

As if realizing that he may have let out more information than he had intended just then, Tucker blanched.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet as rubbed the back of his head nervously, “So I maybe, _maybe_ arranged it so that Washington would meet us there.” He sheepishly admitted under the collective gaze of his co-workers.

“ _Ooh._ ” A multitude of voices said all at once, realization seeping in that this could even technically be considered Washington and Tucker’s first “ _official_ ” date.

“I fucking hate you all.” Tucker couldn’t help but mutter under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, this is a shorter chapter than originally planned. I figured this was a good stopping point. Otherwise, the chapter would have been really long and would have taken even more time to come out. 
> 
> Next up on _Just Drive_ : Wash and Junior finally meet, Grif will run into Simmons again, and everyone decides to go cheer Tucker on with his date! Or, more likely, they just decide to tag along to embarrass him. XD 
> 
> I hope that everyone who celebrates has a Happy Holiday and, if you don’t, I hope you have a great week! :)
> 
> Thank you very much for taking the time to read this! :D


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“I really don’t fucking get why all of us are heading over to Donut’s right now.” Lavernius Tucker muttered under his breath for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

Dexter Grif would know, having heard his childhood friend say the same thing over and over again in the span of five minutes.

It was like they were stuck in some sadistically diabolical loop that Sarge had created just to torture the orange-wearing driver.  Grif wouldn’t put it past the crazy old guy too, since by default it was torturing a _“damn dirty Blue”_ in the process as part of whatever the hell that imaginary _“Red vs. Blue”_ thing was that Sarge would always rant on and on about.  Grif had started tuning him out, just as he was currently trying to do with Tucker.

The dark-skinned man was pretty much right dab in the middle of all of his coworkers save Matthews, who Grif had a sneaking suspicion might just be at The Big Gulp already, and Doctor Grey.  Tucker looked thoroughly miserable, as if this was a walk of shame.  Not that Tucker had any.

Grif _almost_ felt bad for him.  Key word there being _almost_.  For the most part, the chubby man was just amused.

To Grif’s credit, his apathetic nature allowed his inner glee to not show on his features, unlike some of their friends.  Leonard Church, from where he was sandwiched into the group between a happily rambling Michael J. Caboose and a nodding Andersmith simply grinned at his friend’s misery.

“Come on, Tucker,” Church began, “Carolina kicked us all out of the garage for some kind of business meeting, and this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see you humiliate yourself.  Again.”

“How can it be ‘ _again_ ’ if it is ‘ _once-in-a-lifetime_ ,’ asshole?” Tucker groaned and gave his cobalt-wearing coworker the finger, “I seriously hate you.”

“Details, Tucker,” Church said as he grinned back at his friend, looking for all the world like a kid in a candy store, “Fucking details.”

Not going to lie, the creepy smile on Church’s face was starting to freak Grif out a little.  He was beginning to wonder if most of the people at the Project Freelancer Garage were sadistic assholes.

But, hey, Sheila had been nice enough to offer to buy coffee for everyone as they waited for the all clear from their boss to come back to work, and who was Grif to not take the brown-haired woman up on her generous offer?  Which was of course why he was here, and not because he was trying to sneak in a nap somewhere else.

The second that the motley crew entered The Big Gulp, Grif could already tell that the coffee shop was a bit more crowded than normal.

Sarge and Doctor Emily Grey both moved off to a quiet corner of the café after offering some words of encouragement to Tucker, who ended up turning rather red as a result of whatever “advice” the couple had given to him.  Grif could only imagine, given the sources, it was _colorful_ advice to say the least.

Caboose found a table and chairs with some magazines on the tabletop, exclaiming loudly at the find as he pulled along with him both Andersmith, who accompanied the blond with a far too enthusiastic _“Yes, sir!”_ , and Church, who scowled with a _“Geez, I’m fucking coming already!”_

Sheila smiled good-naturedly at everyone before walking over to the counter with Lopez hot on her heels.  More than likely, the brown-wearing mechanic wanted to help Sheila with the drinks once the orders had been placed since it gave him an excuse to socialize only with her and not the others.

Glancing in their direction, Grif sighed.

The blonde barista working behind the counter was someone that Grif was now quite familiar with, as was the tan-skinned girl sitting near her at the counter.

“I don’t have any classes today, so don’t fucking start.” Kaikaina Grif stated in way of greeting her older brother.

Grif rolled his eyes before responding: “Just don’t fucking embarrass the family.”

Sitting at a table close by the counter were Jensen and Palomo, the two coffee shop workers evidently on break at the moment.  They had been holding hands, although it seemed as if it was a subconscious gesture.  Grif doubted the two college-aged baristas were even aware of it.

Jensen’s brown eyes lit up at the sight of so many people in the café at once, “I’ll bet Matthews is going to be surprised to find all of his co-workers here when he comes back with Bitters!” She exclaimed before hopping up to go around the counter to assist Volleyball.

Palomo snorted as he reluctantly followed the brunette with the braided pigtails, “If he’s stopped making googly eyes at Bitters enough to notice.” He joked good-naturedly, laughing when Jensen playfully hit his dark-skinned arm in response.

Unsurprisingly, Doc was already in The Big Gulp with Junior.  The two were busy waving Tucker over to where they were sitting exuberantly, as if Junior was afraid that his father wouldn’t see him otherwise.  Tucker grinned widely at the sight and walked over to them, laughing as Junior raced up to him the rest of the way and leapt into his arms.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?” Tucker inquired as he ruffled Junior’s hair a bit, much to the small boy’s amusement.

Junior’s quiet remark about what he and Doc had done earlier that day was lost on Grif’s ears as he turned his head slightly to see Kai smirking at him.

“What?” The older Grif sibling asked with more than a bit of trepidation in his voice since that particular look on the younger girl’s face usually meant trouble.

…Not that _most_ of Kai’s looks didn’t mean trouble.

“Nothing.” Kai’s grin only widened, “Save you’ll never guess who’s here too.”

Grif raised a dark-haired eyebrow at her comment.  He was about to inquire what she meant and, more importantly, why he would even care, when Donut’s exuberant voice came drifting out from the back of the establishment.

_“That’s when I told him: you have to try to relax and take it all in to get the full release!”_

The pink apron-wearing café owner was exiting the backroom, his hands animatedly moving along with his story.  But, it was the man standing next to him, the one with a face as red as his hair now thanks to Donut’s penchant for wording, that really caught Grif’s attention.

“Simmons?” Grif couldn’t help but blurt out a second later.  


*****

David Washington was a nervous, sweating wreck as he stood outside the familiar doors of the woefully named The Big Gulp.

He was on his way to a _real_ date with Tucker.  Not only that, but he was going to be meeting the teal-wearing driver’s son for the first time as well.

The blond supposed it was only natural then, given the circumstances, that he would be a ball of nerves. 

Unfortunately for the security guard, Tex saw him take a shuddering breath with barely concealed amusement in her brown eyes.

They had both been given the day off together.  Tex had said she would walk to Donut’s café with Washington since she was apparently going to meet Church and the others from his work there.

Felix and Locus had also been given the day off, though not surprisingly neither had divulged their downtime plans.  Washington had decided not to ask seeing as how the two mercenaries had walked off together, shoulder-to-shoulder.

…Of course, that left Vanessa Kimball as Hargrove’s sole bodyguard, though he knew that she was more than capable.  It was just a matter of whether or not the dark-skinned woman could stomach being around the head of Charon for a whole day by herself.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Tex couldn’t help joking, teasing evident in her tone as her voice brought back focus to the matter at hand.

Washington sighed at the blonde’s taunting before steeling himself and entering the café.

Tex’s earlier remark about meeting everyone from the Project Freelancer Garage there seemed to be proven true, as Washington was caught off-guard momentarily by the myriad of familiar faces all around him.  But, after nodding a tense greeting to everyone, he spotted Tucker easily enough.

The dark-skinned younger man was holding onto a small boy, his eyes lighting up at spotting Washington still standing in the doorway.

Tex gave the former Freelancer a gentle (for her, at any rate) push from behind to get him to move forward, moving past Washington to join Church at the table where the dark-haired man was currently sitting with Caboose and Andersmith.

Washington made his way over to Tucker and his son, hoping his steps were steadier than they felt.

“Hey, look who made it!” Tucker joked the second they were within earshot of one another, a look of relief flooding over his features.

Had Tucker been nervous too?

Washington couldn’t help but send him a sympathetic smile, “Wouldn’t miss it.” He mumbled out himself, surprised at the sudden earnestness in his voice.

Tucker grinned, looking down at the small boy still tucked in his arms, “Wash, I’d like you to meet Junior.” He stated proudly, “Junior, this is Wash.”

The boy was regarding him carefully as Tucker put him down on the ground once more, and Washington couldn’t help but feel somewhat self-conscious at the scrutiny.  What if Junior didn’t like him, or…?

Washington waved his hand shakily, trying to get that particular train of thought out of his brain right then and there, “H—hello, Junior.” He began, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Junior still said nothing, but Tucker shot Washington an amused look that clearly stated “ _Chill, dude, he’s not going to murder you_.”

Finally, after what seemed like an uneasy eternity, Junior opened his mouth, “Are you Daddy’s _friend_?” He asked, before trying to wriggle his eyebrows in a way that left no question as to who his father was.

Suddenly, all of the unease and nervousness peeled off of Washington at the child’s innocent enough question, and he couldn’t help but laugh.  The gray and yellow-wearing man noticed Tucker watching him expectantly along with Junior and, with effort, he stopped himself in order to answer the question.

“Er…” Washington’s face felt a bit hot just then, “Y—yes, one could say that…”

He saw Tucker’s look of momentary surprise morph into a look of what almost looked like happiness while Junior nodded his head as if the security guard’s answer was completely expected.

_“Oooh!”_ A chorus of voices from all around them said at once, reminding Washington and Tucker for the first time that they were far from the only people in The Big Gulp.

Tucker glared at his friends and co-workers, a bit of a blush forming on his cheeks to no doubt match Washington’s own, “…Maybe we should get our coffee to go.” He muttered under his breath.

At the sight of Donut, standing nearby next to Doc, giving the two men an encouraging thumbs up, Washington couldn’t help but nod his head quietly in agreement.

They made their way over to the counter since the barista Volleyball had already made their usual drinks for them.  Washington was a bit surprised to see Simmons standing close by in conversation with Grif, but he thought nothing more of it once he stepped outside of the café with Tucker and his son.

The little boy surprised him by taking hold of both of the adults’ hands.

“So, tell me, Junior,” Washington began as they started to make their way to the park, “Do you like cats?”

*****

“Hargrove had some business to attend to with your boss, Carolina.” Richard “Dick” Simmons informed Grif after Washington, Tucker, and Junior left the café and everyone went back to their normally scheduled lives, “So, he gave me a small break during their meeting.”

Grif nodded his dark-haired head in understanding.  Well, that certainly explained Carolina’s earlier kicking them all out.

“So you figured that you’d catch up with Donut in the meanwhile.” He surmised.

Simmons nodded, though the frown and sudden glance down towards his watch seemed to indicate that break time was almost up.

Grif sighed, not really _wanting_ to go back but oddly reluctant to part ways with the nerd all the same, “Come on,” he began, moving to the door, “I’ll walk you back.”

There was another chorus of _“Oooh!”_ following the chubby man’s statement, though Grif chose to ignore the assholes in The Bug Gulp like a pro.

“A—are you sure?” Simmons, on the other hand, had become red-faced at the sudden attention that was thrown their way, “I—I wouldn’t want to…!”

Grif raised an eyebrow lazily, “I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t want to, Simmons.” He informed the redhead matter-of-factly, “You know me, I don’t take something as exhausting as walking lightly.”

“Fat-ass.” Oddly, Simmons said nothing else in reply, though his face became even redder as he nodded his head in quiet agreement.

The only noises that could be heard when they stepped outside were sounds of yelling on a nearby Rat’s Nest street. 

Both voices were very familiar to Grif, especially the one that belonged to a certain kiss-ass intern.

*****

By the time the two had reached the corner in companionable silence, the sounds of shouting had rescinded to a dull echo.  The two men found a forlorn-looking Matthews standing there, all alone.

“Oh!  Grif, sir!” Matthews looked taken aback at having been seen in the tail-end of an argument by one of his superiors from the garage.

“Something happen, Matthews?” Grif asked disinterestedly, though he saw Simmons’ face lighting up in curiosity about what they had obviously stumbled into.

Matthews deflated even more as soon as the question was asked, “I got into an argument with Bitters.”

“Oh, I see.” Grif figured that would be the end of the conversation, his capacity for caring officially having reached its limit.

Unfortunately, Matthews evidently thought his remark was some kind of encouragement that meant he should continue, “He…he street races.  The pay is pretty good for that, you know?  He has been thinking of…of quitting the café to focus on racing.”

Of course, it could never be something _simple_.  Grif sighed.

Matthews shrank back even more, “I may have…I may have given him the keys to your car.” The auburn-haired young man admitted sheepishly, “Just so Bitters could try something that involved driving safely.”

Grif felt a sudden headache looming.  _Of course_ , Matthews had done that.  The orange-wearing driver exchanged an apathetic glance with Simmons then, who oh-so-helpfully shrugged in response.

Grif sighed, “It’s fine, Matthews.” He finally said at length, “Just be sure to _ask_ beforehand next time.”

“Y—yes, sir!” Matthews perked up at Grif’s remark, returning instantly to his suck-up ways, “Thank you, sir!”

Grif couldn’t help but sigh yet again, though the consoling pat and sympathetic smile he got from Simmons just then _almost_ made it worth it.

*****

The three men were just about across the street from the Project Freelancer Garage when all hell broke loose.

First, there was the loud noise of an engine revving up.  Then, suddenly Grif’s car was speeding out onto the road with Bitters behind the wheel.

Matthews stared at the sight, unusually pale, “He—he doesn’t usually drive like that!” The bespectacled intern insisted shakily, obviously nervous at the prospect of his boss’ car getting damaged along with Bitters.

The door to the garage opened at around the same time with Carolina, Kimball, and Hargrove racing outside to watch the sight.  Out of the corner of his eye, Grif couldn’t help but notice that there was an odd, rectangular device in Hargrove’s hands.

“You’ve made your point!” Carolina all but loudly hissed at the elderly businessman, “Turn it off!”

However, Hargrove looked just as shocked as she did, though he managed to purse his lips together into a thin line of indifference all the same, “I didn’t account for an actual driver.” He informed both women matter-of-factly, “I have no more control over the device.”

It looked as if Bitters couldn’t get the car to slow down _or_ stop.  Just as Grif was registering that it was coming directly at the three of them on the sidewalk, the barista tried a last ditch effort to turn the wheel.

It worked somehow, though the car ended up crashing right into the vacant building next to them instead with the sickening sound of twisted metal.

Matthews was already heading to check on Bitters as Carolina and Kimball were racing over to see if everyone was all right.  Grif turned to the redheaded kiss-ass who had been standing by his side the entire time only to see a pool of red liquid on the ground before his brain registered the person lying in it.

_“SIMMONS!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the ending of this chapter might be too rushed, but I was trying to go for a very intense ending point so hopefully that came across still. I am sorry for the massive cliffhanger, but there are only two more chapters left of _Just Drive_ before we reach the ending! I hope it will be a satisfactory one for everyone. :)
> 
> Thank you very much for taking the time to read this story! :D


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Dexter Grif hated hospitals with a passion.  Granted, he didn’t know of too many people, save perhaps Doc or Doctor Grey, who really enjoyed spending time in them.  The sterile environment, the buzz of machines, and the tense atmosphere that came with impatiently waiting for news: they all combined to make one miserable-as-fuck waiting game.

Bitters and Simmons had both been taken to the back of the medical clinic known as Valhalla.  Luckily for Bitters, his hospital visit was more-or-less a precautionary check-up.  As far as Simmons was concerned, however…

With Simmons in mind, Grif thought of all the blood that he had seen pooling under the lanky redhead on the Rat’s Nest street.  The chubby man closed his eyes tightly, fists clenched at his sides as he willed the images away.

If he wanted to totally ruin his apathetic slacker reputation just then, Grif could have cursed that he wasn’t considered “immediate” family or some other bullshit like that.

…Simmons _was_ going to lose an arm, he knew that much.

All he knew beyond that tiny morsel of information was that a thoroughly stressed out-looking Doctor Grey had been assigned to the procedure and, because Simmons was an employee of Hargrove’s, he was a candidate for some kind of new cybernetics technology.

…Which should be a good thing, right?  At least it would make for some awesome “cyborg overlord” jokes later on.  Grif kept trying to tell himself over and over to focus on the positives, which was utter bullshit since he never really tried focusing on them before.

Besides, it was fucking hard to do that when he wasn’t aware of what was going on, especially since all of the others in the Valhalla waiting room seemed just as upset as he was.  It was even more troubling when Doctor Emily Grey, usually so cheerful at the prospect of experimental surgery, seemed hesitant and upset.  Where the fuck was her maniacal mad doctor personality when they fucking needed it?

Grif’s dark eyes wandered around the waiting room lobby disinterestedly.

Carolina was seated in one of the waiting room chairs, a deep frown plastered across her features and a stormy look in her green eyes.  Next to her sat Vanessa Kimball, and the fact that their hands were linked tightly together just then was not lost on Grif.

He’d be lying if he said he particularly cared at the moment, but maybe Carolina would mellow out and be less scary-as-fuck now that she had found someone who understood her.  Although, honestly, that might just be wishful thinking on the orange-wearing driver’s part since he’d love a chance to take it easy at work, especially given all this fucking recent stress.

Grif’s eyes glanced over towards Sarge, who had also come along to the clinic with Doctor Grey.  The older mechanic was standing in the waiting room with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl suffusing his weathered features.  He looked miserable, but that wasn’t particularly new for Sarge.  Unless he was threatening Grif or bragging to Doctor Grey, Sarge’s face tended to have a default grimace and crazy eyes.

Matthews _had_ been sitting in the waiting room looking for all the world like a lost puppy.  Grif found himself thinking of Simmons whenever he caught a glance at the auburn-haired intern.  So, fortunately for him, Kaikaina Grif and the rest of Matthews’ friends from the Big Gulp had managed to distract Matthews from his worry by forcing him to check out the cafeteria with them.

Andersmith and Michael J. Caboose had gone with them too, Caboose evidently having worked up an appetite due to all the anxiety he was witnessing around him.  Grif could understand that sentiment far too well, being something of a stress eater himself.

Speaking of his sister, Grif recalled how Kai had swooped onto the scene in her usual grandiose fashion.  When she had entered Valhalla, the tan-skinned girl gave one meaningful glance towards her big brother to gauge whether or not he wanted her company before patting him reassuringly on the back.  Having accurately guessed that Grif had wanted to be left alone, Kai focused her attention on Matthews instead.

Grif had felt oddly proud of her, then.  He sure as hell hadn’t raised Kai to be overly considerate, and she often wasn’t, but shit like that proved that maybe he hadn’t totally failed as her caregiver.

Franklin Delano Donut had come by after closing up the café early, which made sense considering that all of his employees had wanted to come by the hospital too.  The pink-wearing café owner was also obviously worried for his childhood friend.  Grif’s eyes glanced over towards Donut, currently seated with Frank “Doc” DuFresne.

The bespectacled medic was reassuringly whispering to Donut about the procedure Simmons was undergoing, exclaiming enthusiastically how good of a doctor Doctor Grey was even though she didn’t agree with his orange juice and aloe vera treatments.  Donut appeared to be only half-listening, though he smiled warmly at Doc all the same.  If it were any other time, Grif would inwardly groan at the exchange.

That left Grif to muse about the current absences as he lazily looked at the entrance to Valhalla.  Sheila and Lopez had stayed behind to tend to things at the Project Freelancer Garage, though the brunette made them all swear that their coworkers visiting the clinic would keep the two of them posted.

Leonard Church and Tex had gone off to find Washington, Tucker, and Junior.  The duo had decided that _somebody_ needed to tell them what had happened and where to find all of them.  To be honest, the thought hadn’t even crossed Grif’s mind.  But, he honestly wasn’t thinking about shit like that right now.

…Still, Church and Tex must have accomplished what they had set out to do as the doors to the waiting room area opened, ushering the small group of five inside.

Tucker was holding Junior in his arms, the boy looking both nervous and rather tired all at once.  Again, Grif could relate: he was more stressed than he ever liked to be at the moment, but he also felt like he wanted to hide somewhere and take a twelve hour nap.  Stress and anxiety were fucking weird as shit.

Washington’s hand was, knowingly or not, on the square of Tucker’s shoulders.  In any other scenario, Grif would have given his childhood friend some well-deserved ribbing over the sight.  It was a true sign of how out of sorts the chubby man was that he didn’t.

Grif watched out of the corner of his eye as Church let out a tired sigh.  The dark-haired man sat down in one of the waiting room space’s chairs, Tex sinking into the plush seating of the one next to him.

“What the fuck happened?” Tucker demanded not a second later, the dark-skinned man shifting Junior in his arms.

“An accident.” Carolina’s voice was hollow when she spoke up, as if she was spitting the words out.

Tucker rolled his eyes, “Yeah, no shit.  I _got_ that.”

“It was Hargrove.” Kimball tried filling in the gaps as best she could, though it was obvious that she was rather fuzzy on the details herself, “He had this device, and he…” The dark-skinned woman trailed off, shrugging her shoulders helplessly, “I’m honestly not sure _what_ happened.”

“I can’t believe the bastard finally perfected it.” Sarge mumbled under his breath at nearly the same time, dark eyes cloudy and distant, “Dang-nab-it.”

All eyes turned towards the red-wearing former soldier then, all save Carolina’s.  The redhead closed her green eyes instead, letting out a quiet sigh as if she knew exactly what Sarge was talking about.  Fucking Freelancer secretive shit: Carolina probably did know exactly what the senile old coot was referring to.  She just wasn’t going to let any of them in on it.

“Say what now?” Tucker questioned when it was apparent that no one else was going to speak up.

Sarge harrumphed, “You heard me.” He muttered, pulling himself away from the wall that he had been leaning on until then.

“You know what that fucking thing was that Hargrove had?” Grif heard himself ask, surprised at how even his tone was.

“’Course I do.” Sarge scoffed, “I helped build it.”

Grif stood up at the mechanic’s statement, fists clenched at his sides.  He’d dealt with a lot of Sarge’s crazy shit in the past, but this time someone ( _Simmons!_ ) had actually gotten hurt.  He was genuinely pissed, and he didn’t often feel that way: “Fuck you, _sir_.”

Before Grif could say or do something that he’d _probably_ regret, Carolina spoke up, “Sarge helped our father create an automated driving system.” She explained as she glanced towards a surprised-looking Church, “It was meant to help during the war.”

Washington frowned at the redhead’s words.  Grif caught the blond sharing a glance with Tucker, but the former Freelancer said nothing.

Tex seemed to figure out what was coming next in Carolina’s story though, “But the war ended before it could be utilized, and somehow Hargrove got his hands on it after your dad died.”

Carolina’s frown deepened, and she nodded.  She didn’t say anything though, meaning she wasn’t going to offer much else to the current conversation.

“I’d been hopin’ it would help us replace no good drivers who wear orange, like Grif.” Sarge admitted rather glumly, his Southern accent filling the silence.

“Love you too, Sarge.” Grif rolled his eyes, not really having the energy anymore to feel _that_ offended.

“Hargrove had come to show me the progress that his company Charon had made with the system, to try to force me to sell the garage.” Carolina recalled, casting a glance over at the doors leading further into the hospital, “But he hadn’t taken into account what would happen with an actual person’s interference.”

So, Bitters attempting to drive the car at the same time had resulted in the automated driving system going haywire.

…As well as Simmons going into surgery.

“That bastard does nothin’ but steal ideas from other people and then prosper from ‘em.” Sarge stated rather emphatically as a heavy silence once more descended upon the room, “Why, Doctor Grey’s fairly certain this cybernetics project is based off our own one we had tried gettin’ offa the ground a few years back.”

Grif felt like the whole world was fucking spinning.  No wonder Doctor Grey hadn’t seemed too pleased with the prospect of this particular surgery, as crazily exciting and experimental as it was.

“So Hargrove used what happened with Simmons to further another stolen project of his?” Church shook his head and whistled, “That’s fucked up, dude.”

All Grif was seeing at this point was _red_.  He wasn’t used to feeling this intensely.  It was fucking exhausting.

He was brought back to the conversation by Kimball’s voice, the dark-haired woman holding onto Carolina’s hand tightly as she talked, “You’re not in this alone now.” She told the red-haired woman gently but firmly, a sardonic smile crossing over her features, “Though I’m afraid I don’t know of how much help I’ll be.  Now that I’m out of a job and all.”

That’s right.  By being here with the Project Freelancer Garage crew, Kimball, Washington, and Tex were pretty much forfeiting their jobs at Charon.  Washington and Tex both smirked at one another, nodding their agreement with Kimball’s assessment.

Carolina smiled thinly, “Thanks.” She muttered genuinely before pressing her mouth into a thin line, “Though I’m afraid it won’t matter much if we can’t prove what’s happened within Hargrove’s company.”

Another heavy silence settled over the group, broken up only by the return of Matthews and the others as everyone went back to their own thoughts.  Grif watched distantly as Caboose raced over to Church while Andersmith went outside to call Sheila and Lopez at Carolina’s request.  Katie Jensen and Charles Palomo both grabbed onto Matthews’ shoulders, steering their auburn-haired friend towards a seat.

Kai lingered with Volleyball for a moment before sitting down next to her brother, eyeing him carefully, “…You okay, Dex?” She asked in a softer-than-normal voice.

Grif shrugged, “I’m not the one on the operating table.”

Kai touched her older brother’s shoulder reassuringly, “The gray guy’s going to be okay.”

…Grif could only hope that she was right.

*****

David Washington sighed to himself as he retrieved two cups of coffee from the coffee pot located in the Valhalla waiting room area.  To think that things had been seemingly going so well earlier today after meeting Junior.  The blond could scarcely believe how quickly things had gone downhill.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  Shit had a habit of hitting the fan.  You’d think after all he’d been through with Freelancer, Washington would have remembered that.

He brought the two steaming cups of coffee over to where Lavernius Tucker was sitting, a napping Junior sprawled on the chair next to the teal-wearing driver.  Washington glanced over at the child, wincing slightly.  Hospital visits were never fun, especially at his age.

“You’ve been awfully quiet ever since Carolina and the others talked.” Washington couldn’t help but note as he handed one of the drinks to Tucker, sitting down next to the younger man on the opposite side from Junior.

Tucker grasped the cup thankfully, taking a long swig from his drink, “That’s because this whole thing is beyond fucked up.” He finally noted, grimacing in thought.

Washington couldn’t help but agree: “It _is_ a lot to process.”

The former Freelancer felt another sigh threaten to escape his lips as he glanced over towards Carolina’s direction.  His old friend caught his eye and gave him a tired, sort-of smile.  He returned it shakily.

The exchange was not lost on Tucker, who couldn’t help smiling himself, “Well, at least the big mystery as to why she’d been so fucking pissed off with you is solved.”

Washington couldn’t help but nod his head in agreement, “Yeah.  No wonder, I guess.”

Tucker stretched in his seat, looking thoughtful, “Think the two of you can be friends again?” He asked carefully, as if afraid of overstepping his bounds.

Washington shrugged before turning to look at Tucker earnestly, “I don’t know, but I hope so, Tucker.”

“Me too.  It’s a start at least, you know?”

Washington was so caught off-guard by the sincerity in Tucker’s voice just then that he couldn’t help but blush behind his freckles.

Tucker’s own face seemed to heat up as well, the dark-skinned man turning to look anywhere but in Washington’s general direction, “At any rate,” Tucker began, changing the subject with a frown forming on his features, “We can’t let that asshole Hargrove get away with this shit.”

Washington couldn’t help but nod his head in agreement, “We’ll find a way to stop him, Tucker.”

Tucker smirked and raised a dark eyebrow playfully, “That a promise, Wash?”

The blond smiled back, “Definitely.”

The two sat in comfortable silence for quite some time following that exchange, with Tucker glancing over at his son fondly as he slept.  He let out his own sigh of relief, “I’m just glad that Junior wasn’t around when the accident happened.” He murmured under his breath.

“That would have definitely been bad.” Washington agreed, not wanting to imagine how the poor boy would have reacted to witnessing such a traumatic scene.

Tucker looked over at Washington almost shyly then, “Still, it’s a shame our little playdate got cancelled like it did.” He noted seriously, “I think Junior was really starting to like you.”

“Y—you think?” Washington could barely believe his ears as his face reddened considerably more under Tucker’s current regard.

The dark-skinned man nodded, “Trust me, dude.”  Tucker glanced around them contemplatively for a few moments before turning to Washington again with a goofy grin plastered across his face, “It’s almost time for dinner.” He noted, tilting his head in the direction of the signs pointing towards the clinic’s cafeteria, “Why don’t we wake up Junior and check out how crappy hospital food really is, huh?”

Washington couldn’t help but smile, “Sounds like a plan.”

*****

Antoine Bitters was let back out into the waiting room the second it was determined that all he had from the accident were a few minor cuts and scrapes.  He was fortunate, all things considered.

Bitters’ customary scowl was suffused over the barista’s features, though Grif noted that it softened considerably when Matthews raced over to him to check on how he was doing.

The multi-colored haired man’s fingers gripped onto the rambling Matthews’ shoulder gently, cutting off whatever the intern was saying with a light squeeze.  Bitters scanned the waiting room until his eyes landed on Grif, his scowl deepening once more as he moved past Matthews and made his way over to the chubby man with Matthews hot on his heels.

The dark-skinned young man stopped when he was standing directly in front of Grif.  The orange-wearing driver merely raised his eyebrows as he waited for whatever it was that Bitters evidently wanted to say or, more than likely knowing the young man’s anger issues, yell at him.

“…Sorry.” Bitters finally muttered, looking at the tiled floor of the hospital.

It seemed as if even that little bit of an apology was difficult for him to say, but obviously Bitters felt it was something he _had_ to do all the same.

“B—Bitters…” Matthews began, trailing off unsurely.

Grif stared at the two anxiously waiting young men and let out a tired sigh, “The only thing you two need to apologize for is taking the car keys like you did.” He began at length, “That other shit is all on Hargrove.”

Including Simmons’ surgery, _especially_ that.

Matthews fidgeted nervously behind Bitters, “We’re…we’re really sorry about that, sir!” He noted shakily, although it was obvious his kiss-ass nature was shining through.

“Then don’t fucking do it again.” Grif stood up from his chair and stretched before fixing the now silent Bitters with an even stare, “Though if you _still_ feel like making it up to me, you could practice driving more professionally.  Maybe even become an intern at the garage.”

Bitters seemed to seriously take in what the apathetic man had just said, nodding his head curtly.

But, Grif wasn’t finished with Bitters just yet, “Oh,” he continued lazily, “And you should totally admit that you want to fuck Matthews while you’re at it.  Be a maverick.”

The two younger men became extremely red-faced, both sputtering at once.

Normally, that would have amused the shit out of him, but Grif had just spotted Doctor Grey emerging from behind the waiting area’s doors.  So, the chubby man was already walking off to demand an update from her on Simmons.

*****

Grif woke up with a start several hours later when the door to Richard “Dick” Simmons’ hospital room closed.  The orange-wearing driver winced, the muscles in his neck sore from the odd position he had been sleeping in on the uncomfortable hospital chair.

“Hey.”

The chubby man was startled out of his drowsy thoughts by Simmons’ voice, and he glanced over in the direction of the bed to see the red-haired man sitting up and staring at him with lucid green eyes.

“Hey.” Grif stated himself rather awkwardly, glancing down subconsciously at the gleaming metal appendage that Simmons was now sporting, “How are you…?”

“I feel like shit.” Simmons stated bluntly, glancing down at the arm himself and clenching it into an awkward-looking fist.

“It’s…it’s not so bad.” Grif tried, “You’re basically a cyborg now.  Isn’t that some kind of nerd fantasy?”

Simmons snorted, “Could be better though.” He frowned, “Though things could have been way worse.  Shouldn’t fucking complain, right?”

“Simmons…”

“I liked my arm though.” Simmons muttered softly, looking as if he were about to cry, “It wasn’t robotic and cool, but it was fucking _mine_.”

Grif really couldn’t blame the redhead for being upset.  Unable to think of anything else to say, he scooted his chair closer to Simmons’ bedside and reached over to grasp Simmons’ still human hand in his own.

Simmons was silent for a good, long while.  The pale-skinned man looked as though he were trying to keep himself from breaking down entirely, taking in large gulps of air as if to steady himself.

“I…I already heard from the others about what happened.” Simmons stated at length when he was finally calm enough to do so.

Oh, so they must have just left.  That left no doubt then about who had exited the room when Grif had heard the door close shut earlier.

Before Grif could speak, Simmons opened his mouth again, “It—it was a lot to take in, but I think I’ll manage…” he looked down at his cybernetic hand that was still clenched into an odd sort-of fist before adding quietly, “…With everyone’s support.”  His green eyes hardened rather determinedly a split-second later, “Be—because right now, all I want to do is help you guys take down Hargrove.”

Grif looked up at Simmons’ freckled face in stark surprise at the redhead’s declaration, “What?”

Simmons offered him a shaky, sort-of smirk in response, “W—well, _you_ were the one who asked me what I wanted to choose to do in life.” He reminded him, “And…I’m doing that right now.”

“Simmons,” Grif knitted his eyebrows together in concern, “Are you sure?  You don’t have to fucking do anything.”

Simmons nodded emphatically, “I’ll…I’ll get you the information that you all will need to get Hargrove off your backs.” He promised, frowning slightly as something else just occurred to him, “Even though it will mean having to go back to work for that jerk some more.”

Grif’s mouth fell open for a split second in disbelief before he couldn’t help the sudden grin that suffused his features, “It is absolutely against the laws of nature for a socially awkward kiss-ass like you to be as cool as you are right now, nerd.”

The redhead’s face became as red as his hair at the orange-wearing driver’s compliment, “I—I suppose it’s just because you and the others helped bring out this side of me.” He stated before adding in with a smirk, “Jackass.”

Simmons became serious once more as he regarded Grif closely, “Thank you, Grif.” He muttered sincerely, “If you could just wait for me for a little while…”

He trailed off when Grif reached over with a slight smile, this time grasping Simmons’ new cybernetic hand.  Neither man said anything else as they gently squeezed the other’s fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go, and it should be up in a day or so! :)
> 
> Thank you very much for taking the time to read this story! :D


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The sun was shining high in the morning sky despite the winter chill as Dexter Grif entered the new garage workspace over at Blood Gulch.  Only, this time, he used the coffee shop doors to do so.  Right now, the orange-wearing driver needed his usual coffee fix.

He’d be able to get to work quickly enough, that is if he gave a shit about clocking in on time and actually moved in a hurry for once.  After all, there was another set of doors along the far left side of the Big Gulp’s shared space that proudly displayed the sign for the recently renamed “Reds and Blues” Garage.  Grif would be able to leisurely take his time, like always.

The garage’s relocation from Rat’s Nest to Blood Gulch had only gone as smoothly as it had thanks to Simmons finding out about several pending investigations regarding Charon.  The redheaded nerd was able to oh-so-discreetly help those particular investigations along given his status working for Hargove’s company.

The added pressure from their group wasn’t something that Hargrove necessarily wanted to deal with at the time, so the old guy was perfectly content to let them leave Rat’s Nest with the promise of never bothering them again.  Apparently, Hargrove was currently even looking at jail time, which Grif figured served him just fine.

Grif could still hardly believe that Donut had decided to pack up and move the Big Gulp along with the garage.  The pink-wearing café owner citing a need for adventure and a desire for something “ _fresh and exiting_ ” as his reasons for doing so, though Grif thought it was more likely that Donut would miss everyone stopping by the Big Gulp all the time if he hadn’t.  After all, the workers over at the Reds and Blues Garage were basically Donut’s only regular customers.

In that regard, the move _did_ make an odd sort of sense in a way.  Not only were most of Donut’s _other_ regulars’ patrons of the garage as well, but they were also college students in need of a caffeine fix.  Customers from the garage could now readily stop in for a cup of coffee or a quick bite _while_ dropping off their cars, and college-goers could hang out in the larger space of the new building seeing as how it was a lot closer to the campus of Chorus University.

_“What’s up, loser?”_

Speaking of college students, Kai greeted Grif with her customary sibling greeting from her perch by the café’s register counter.

It appeared that his sister and Volleyball were pouring over some books and notes for their classes later on that day.  Upon seeing the older Grif sibling enter, Volleyball straightened up and kissed Kai.  Then the blonde went behind the counter to make Grif’s usual drink.

Kai watched her saunter off happily before turning to look her older brother directly in the eyes, a smirk forming on her lips as her brown eyes twinkled mischievously, “You didn’t come back to the house last night.” She noted.

Grif felt a slight wave of heat momentarily wash over his cheeks before he shrugged nonchalantly, “I was at Simmons’.”

“Yeah, you were!” A knowing grin was plastered across the young woman’s face at her brother’s comment.

“I am not talking to you about it.” Grif informed her testily a moment later, “It is none of your fucking business.”

“Aww, you suck!” Kai stuck her tongue out at him playfully just as Volleyball returned holding his beverage.

“Here you go.” Volleyball smiled as she passed the drink over to Grif, obviously amused by the sibling antics she was witnessing.

“Thanks.” Grif stated, rolling dark eyes at his sister’s theatrics while he fished out from his pockets the approximate amount of change that he needed for the coffee along with an assortment of empty candy wrappers while ignoring the faces both girls made.

Grif turned around to head to the garage doors when he stopped in his tracks at the sight of two familiar bodyguards sitting at one of the café tables.  He couldn’t help but groan at the sight.

“S’up?” Felix waved his hand uncaringly in greeting towards Grif’s direction while Locus didn’t even bother to lift his head.

“What are you two doing here?” Grif couldn’t keep himself from asking, instantly regretting engaging them in communication, “You know what?  Never mind.  I don’t really care.  Too much effort.”

No good could come from talking to them.  As far as he knew, despite Hargrove’s current legal problems, the two mercenaries were still employed by Charon.

Felix rolled his eyes as if he could read Grif’s mind just then, “Oh, lighten the fuck up.” He informed the chubby man without preamble, “If we wanted to cause trouble, you’d know it already.” Felix took a sip of his coffee before continuing, “It just happens that this _unfortunately_ named place has some of the best fucking coffee in the area.”

“Right.” Locus agreed with Felix’s statement, offering a curt nod of his own.

Not much for conversation, these two assholes.  Grif turned to leave, figuring it was best not to press his luck by staying in their presence any longer.  That seemed to fit the two bodyguards just fine seeing as how they were both promptly ignoring him now.

“You should have seen the look on his face!” Donut’s cheery voice could be heard exclaiming from the back of the café, “It was like he’d never heard someone use the word _“frothage”_ for beverages before!”

Grif glanced over towards the pink-wearing café owner and Doc.  The two were exiting the kitchen area, Donut giggling as Doc wiped a bit of flour from his nose.  They paused when they caught sight of everyone staring at them in the Big Gulp, both men blushing slightly.

“Oh, hey, Grif!” Doc waved to the most recent newcomer in the café, “You should try out the banana nut bread we made later.”

“It’s chockful of our nuts!” Donut supplied oh-so-helpfully.

By this point, Grif decided to go through the closer outside exit.  It was really the best option for his own continued sanity.  Of course, by going out that particular door, he nearly ran into Jensen and Palomo getting ready to start their work day.  Naturally, the two were holding hands.

“Hey, Grif!” Palomo said in greeting with a friendly wave of his free hand.

“I hope you’re doing well, sir!” Jensen stated politely with an inclining tilt of her head, “Sorry we couldn’t make your drink this time.”

“That’s okay.” Grif didn’t have the heart to say that he was secretly rather glad that it had been Volleyball who had made his coffee as she was widely considered the best of the young baristas.

When he finally made way to enter his actual workplace, Grif found that Sarge and Doctor Grey were getting awfully cozy together just outside the door to the garage.  Grey was wrapping a purple and red scarf around Sarge’s neck as their heads nearly touched.

“This one came out _much_ better than the last one, don’t you think?” Doctor Grey asked the older man with a slightly amused glint in her dark eyes.

“Darlin’, everything you make is perfection.” Sarge mumbled as he wrapped his arms around the doctor’s waist.

The red-wearing mechanic glanced up with just enough time to mutter “ _Dirtbag._ ” in customary greeting to Grif before returning his attention back to Grey.  Grif hurried along before he was once again subjected to the sight of the two crazy maniacs making out with one another.  He didn’t need to be mentally scarred today.

Inside the actual office space for the Reds and Blues Garage, he stumbled upon two familiar figures deep in conversation.

“So, we have two brake repairs and an emissions test later today.” Sheila stated as she talked with Lopez.  The brown-wearing mechanic was standing next to the brunette’s desk and nodding every so often at what she was saying.

“Y después cenamos juntos, ¿correcto?”  _{“And then afterwards we have dinner together, correct?”}_

Sheila smiled, a faint blush on her cheeks at whatever it was that Lopez had just said, “Of course!  But if we could take a look at this client…”

From his desk nearby, Washington watched on in amazement, “Incredible.  She pretty much does all the work for me.” He mumbled more to himself than to anyone else.

“See, I’d be totally fine with that arrangement.” Grif couldn’t help but joke with the blond.

Tucker especially liked to joke about how Washington was an administrative assistant for Kimball’s side of the garage business now too.  The dark-skinned man found it insanely amusing that the garage had gone from having one secretary to having three of them, one of whom was a former bodyguard who had, before that, been a former Freelancer.

Washington ignored Grif, frowning in thought, “Though with the two businesses here now, it makes sense to have more than one secretary for when things pick up…” He muttered to himself.  The door opened, and a slight blush formed on Washington’s cheeks when both Tucker and Junior stepped inside, “I suppose it saves up time for other things.”

Washington got up from his seat and walked over to kiss Tucker full on the lips before hugging Junior, “Did you remember to turn off the coffee pot this morning?” he asked Tucker.

Ah, the domestic bliss of a couple that had finally just gotten their shit in line and recently moved in together.

Tucker rolled his eyes, “Fourth time’s the charm, dude.” He reassured Washington before glancing at him seriously, “Ready to go to the park like we planned, or…?”

“Of course.” Washington smiled at the thought.

“This is going to be awesome!” Junior exclaimed, clearly eager for a day of spending time with the two of them.

Tucker and Washington stared into one another’s eyes for a moment before sharing a smile down at Junior.  They both grabbed a hold of one of the boy’s hands and made their way back outside.  Grif sighed, hoping that was the end of his relationship viewings for the day.  Anymore of them and he was probably going to throw up the seven eggs he had eaten for breakfast.

However, just as he was thinking he would be able to sneak away for a ninja nap, Grif heard quite a bit of commotion coming from one of the garage’s backrooms as Caboose, holding Freckles out in one hand, came racing out.

“Oh, oh!  I want to go to the park too!” The blue-wearing blond stated emphatically, as if Washington and company could hear him from the street outside.

“Sir, your jacket!” Andersmith called out, holding the piece of clothing as he followed Caboose right out the door.

“But he just dragged me to the goddamned park yesterday!” Church complained loudly from the doorway that Caboose and Andersmith had just exited from.

“Aww, are you jealous?” Tex asked in amusement from behind the cyan-wearing man.

Church huffed in annoyance at the blonde’s comment, “Of course not.  I’m just fucking glad for the free time.”

“Good,” Tex replied as she grinned mischievously, “Because I have plans for the two of us that definitely don’t involve babysitting Caboose.”

Church grinned at the implication behind her words.  Grif was just glad that, for once, he had remembered to lock his car yesterday.

“Things sure have been lively here since the move.” Sheila noted with a smile on her face.

“... Esa es una manera de decirlo.”  _{“…That’s one way to put it.”}_

Lopez seemed to agree with her.

Grif rolled his eyes as he saw Matthews and Bitters arrive just then with their customary trays of coffee from the café.

“Hey, watch it!” Bitters reached out a steadying hand to the auburn-haired intern to keep him from tripping.

“Th—thanks.” Matthews looked over at the dark-skinned young man gratefully before shyly placing a kiss on his cheek.

Bitters’ face turned slightly red at the action, “We should set everything down before we drop them.” He finally muttered.

Grif couldn’t help but shake his head fondly at the display before sighing annoyingly and heading towards the actual garage proper.

He opened the door to the sight of Carolina and Kimball embracing, the two pulling apart immediately at the sound of the door opening.

Carolina was all business as usual when she spoke, “Grif.” She said curtly, “You have no immediate clients, same as Tucker.”

That was definitely cause for celebration in his book, and Grif couldn’t help but smile and joke, “Great.  I can catch some shuteye then.”

“Just try not to get drool on the wheel this time.” Kimball noted wryly before the two women left the garage together, their shoulders touching as they walked.

Grif barely had time to open the door to his car and take a gulp of his coffee before Richard “Dick” Simmons stormed in to the parking area.

“You fat-ass!” The redhead shrieked the moment that he caught sight of Grif, “You let me sleep in!  _Again_!”

…The nerd was so cute when he got angry over inconsequential things.  Being a pain in the ass was certainly rewarding.  Grif liked to be amused, although he doubted that Simmons could appreciate what he did in order to have some shits and giggles.

So, Grif shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, trying to cover up the smirk growing on his face, “I figured it wasn’t too big of a deal since you’re scheduled to come in later today to relieve Sheila.”

…Not to mention that the kiss-ass looked cute when sleeping.  Simmons spluttered at that surprisingly wise comment, but Grif didn’t let him speak: “Besides, you wouldn’t get enough sleep otherwise.”

Simmons became red-faced, “Th—that’s beside the point!” He countered defiantly, “I had something I’ve been working on outside of office hours.”

Grif couldn’t help but shrug yet again, “What can we do?” He stated pseudo-sagely, “I guess you should just be grateful that I cleaned up after myself this time.”

Simmons huffed, “I suppose miracles _do_ happen on occasion, jackass.” He noted before red tinted his face again and he whispered, “Thank you for the breakfast that you left.”

“What was that, Simmons?” Grif cocked his head to the side and put a hand up to his ear, “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I fucking hate you.” Simmons muttered as he eyed the sleeve of his maroon shirt, the one that hid most of his artificial limb.

Grif grinned in reply, “I love you too, nerd.”

Simmons’ blush at the orange-wearing driver’s comment went all the way down his pale and freckled neck.

Grif took the lull in the conversation as a cue that it was time to finish off his coffee, so he gulped the remaining liquid down before speaking, “Well, I have the morning free and I know you don’t work until later.  So, what do you say?”

The chubby man opened the driver side door and got in, opening the passenger side for Simmons.

Simmons stood there blinking for a few moments like a socially awkward nerd before getting into the passenger side himself.  Grif was caught off-guard when Simmons suddenly leaned over and kissed him, though the tan-skinned man promptly, and rather eagerly, deepened the gesture until they both had to pull away for air.

Grif couldn’t help but smirk as he breathed heavily, “So, I take it that’s a yes?”

Simmons smirked back, eyes bright, “Just drive, fat-ass.”

With that, Dexter Grif revved up the engine as his smile widened, “Anything for you, kiss-ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s a wrap! :) I hope it didn’t feel too rushed or anything, but even though _Just Drive_ was originally my NaNoWriMo story I was having a hard time figuring out how I wanted to end it until this idea came to me recently. Regardless, I hope it was an enjoyable read, and I can’t thank you enough for reading this story all the way to its conclusion! :D
> 
> I plan on working on updating all of my continuing stories in the coming weeks, although I am apparently a glutton for punishment as I already have plans for another ongoing story! However, I want to brainstorm more of it before posting, so I will continue to update my other fics in the meanwhile. Please look forward to those updates as well as the future fic too!


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